by B. Krahn
The moon looked like a big old flashlight– God’s flashlight– coming through the clouds. A comforting thought as I trudged along the cliff road with no luggage, no reliable map, and now no car. Apparently they don’t do spare tires in Spain. How the heck was I going to find my vacation rental, the "Casa Del Mar" in the dark?
Movement ahead caught my eye: someone walking on the road, toward me. A man in a cap materialized from the shadows of the rocky cliffs nearby. The closer he got, the slower I walked, until I stopped altogether.
Relief poured through me.
"Yes. Si." He knew my name; he must be the local agent.
"Is late, si?" His teeth appeared. A smile. "I come to find you. You have no bags?"
"In the car," I explained with a wave behind me. "I got a flat tire."
"No mas," his smile broadened. Big teeth. "No need. Come."
He waved his hand to indicate the moonlit road ahead and as he turned I could have sworn I saw a tail. He felt my hesitation and paused to look back. His eyes glinted. Red. I blinked and the color disappeared. Boy, was I sleep deprived.
"You come?" he said. Another toothy, oddly compelling grin.
I took a deep breath and glanced up at the moon.
"Si, si. . . I come."