The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.
An old pickup truck rumbled down a desolate stretch of highway, its tires kicking up dust that lingered in the air like a ghostly trail.
Behind the wheel sat Dan Mello, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding a half-smoked cigarette.
The truck's radio crackled with static, occasionally catching snippets of a country song before fading back into white noise.
Dan took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he watched the barren landscape roll by.
His eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, scanned the road ahead, more out of habit than necessity.
He hadn't seen another vehicle for hours.
The cigarette burned down to the filter, and Dan flicked it out the open window.
As he reached for the pack on the passenger seat, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention.
