Introduction

The Arizona desert stretched endlessly before us, a shimmering ribbon of highway cutting through red rock and scrub.

My best friend Emily and I were three days into our cross-country road trip, the initial excitement long gone, replaced by heat and boredom.

Then Emily pointed. "Are you seeing this?"

Far off the road, a figure stood, impossibly tall, waving.

I dismissed it, thinking of a stranded hiker, already slowing the car.

But Emily grabbed my arm, her face drained of color, eyes wide with a terror I' d never seen. "Don't get out of the car," she choked out. "Look at its legs."

They were too long, bent at a sickening, backward angle.

Then it moved, not walking, but scrambling with inhuman, insect-like speed, closing the distance in seconds.

"Run!" Emily screamed. "That's not human!"

My foot found the gas pedal, tires spitting gravel as we fishtailed onto the highway.

It scraped against the trunk, a sickening thud, then impossibly, kept pace, a spindly shadow in the rearview mirror.

We were safe, for a moment, after escaping the desert monster, only to have our tires slashed outside a shady garage.

The mechanic and his goons tried to corner us, but a deputy' s timely arrival saved us.

We thought it was over. We were wrong.

News reports followed us home, showing our "Desert Wendigo" was appearing nationwide.

The world wasn't safe. And we knew its dark secret.