Victorville

Victorville? Even the suggestion of the name is enough to make my brain race. Because of the bats. Big huge mutant creatures. Half avian dinosaur and half bat with shrieking cries and gawking shrill calls as they swoop and dive, careen about the car. I consider rolling up the magazine and whacking at them but I fear they might grab my arm and either rip it from my body - a terrible thought of watching my arm carried away in the claws of some giant flying fortress like bird while I am on the edge of passing out from blood loss - or ... or being carried off myself - whole body and looking down at the car where I was once sitting. What if the creature drops me and I get run over by the very vehicle I was, moments before safely ensconced before I got the bright idea to play whack-a-bat? No, better to hunker down, pull my hat down close over my forehead and tuck my chin into my shirt - make a small target so the fanged clawed screaming avians can’t get me.