In the distance, Lyla saw Taj wandering down the hill in search of his partner. "Hey!" he called.

Crickets.

"JoJo!" He amped up the volume.

She crouched in the shadows a safe distance away. She didn't immediately recognize the next sound she heard until she saw the truck begin to roll backward down the hill.

"Jack," she whispered to herself.

When Taj turned, the truck was already headed directly toward him. He was as powerful as a bull, but speed and agility were not among his strengths.

Three thousand pounds of truck got moving quickly on that steep hill, far too quickly for a heavy, flat-footed man to avoid. The battering ram of his tailgate knocked him off his feet. The truck's wide, nubby tires crushed his ribcage and flattened him. Taj burst open like a 300-pound water balloon. The truck left a trail of his organs and intestines for the animals and insects.

Lyla averted her eyes in disgust.

The pickup gained momentum and then hurtled toward Jack's car parked at the base of the hill. The headlight beams bounced wildly as the truck bounded down the hill, hopping ruts and gullies. The truck dipped into a crevice which turned its front wheels, changing the vehicle's trajectory. It bolted in a wide arc, narrowly missing the tail of Jack's car and came to an abrupt stop with a horrendous crash into a wide ditch.

Squinting into the headlights, Lyla could see the gruesome remains of Taj, but no signs of Jack.

"Jack! Jack, where are you?" she called.

In the silence, she felt so all alone. She bit her lower lip.

At the top of the hill, he waved an arm.

Lyla came running. Tears of relief streamed from her eyes as she approached, then she dropped to her knees beside him. They held each other tightly.

She whispered, "He's gone. JoJo's gone."

Despite the excruciating pain, Jack smiled.

"How did you do that?" she asked. "With the truck?"

In a hoarse whisper, he replied, "I released the emergency brake. And gravity did the rest. Wish I could've seen his face."

When she identified the trail of human pieces scattered down the hillside, she turned her head. "Wish I could unsee that," she grimaced.

Her eyes went to the bottom of the hill where Taj's pickup rested in a deep rut, its headlights pointing skyward like beacons.

"We need to get out of here before somebody sees that truck," she said.

Jack barely had the energy to nod. He coughed blood and fell to one knee.

"Don't move," said Lyla. "I'll be right back."

On her way to the crest of the hill, she spotted the car keys. She shoved them into her pocket, then grabbed the shovel and hoe, jogging back to Jack.

"Let's get out of here."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and, using the shovel as a crutch, managed to slowly navigate down the hill to his car. She turned away from the trail of human body parts strewn along the hillside.

When they arrived at the car Jack whispered, "You drive." He collapsed into the passenger seat. Blood had seeped through the strips of cloth wrapped around his bruised hands.

She stored the tools in the trunk and then jumped behind the steering wheel.

He forced an anemic smile that couldn't conceal his anguish.

She started the engine but before she put the car into gear, she turned to him and held his handsome face in her hands.

"Don't be mad at me," she whispered, then leaned in and kissed him gently.

"I'm not mad," he replied. "Kiss me again."

Happy to oblige, she looked into his deep brown eyes and smiled. Together, they had accomplished the impossible.

She turned to face the summit of the hill where the stand of trees stood watch over the Ames family and the two brothers who were now residents. Lyla drove slowly down the rutted dirt and gravel path that intersected the paved two-lane road.

She gripped Jack's hand. He squeezed gently.

She smiled. "Let's go home."