Eric stared in horror at his police cars radio. He glanced at his watch, she was right on time. The sounds that erupted from the radio were bloodcurdling. A woman begging for help, screaming in pain and fighting for her life. He flinched as he listened to her suffer and then exactly thirty minutes later the radio static cleared and Johnny Cash resumed his serenade of the convicts of Fulsom Prison. Eric shivered despite the desert heat. This had been happening for a week now. Radios and TVs seemed to malfunction at exactly 11:29 and continued until 12:01. Most people ignored it now, opting to turn off their electronics. But Eric was drawn to the womans pain and pleas for help. He had triangulated a pattern with the screams, his radio seemed to get louder the closer he got. He didn't even know what he was getting closer to but somehow he knew he was going to find...something.

He shook his head ruefully, thank God he worked midnights and was alone on patrol. If his coworkers got wind of this they would take his gun and badge and send him to the nuthouse. They would shake their heads sadly and say that he was a old man and couldn't handle the job anymore. Nevermind that he was only fifty, a man still in his prime! A little grey in his hair and thicker around the middle than he remembered, but still able to do the job dammit!

Pulling out a map of the county he marked an x at his location. Tomorrow night he would be a little closer. Turning his headlights on he pulled out onto the desolate highway, heading south and deeper into the desert.

He drove along for several miles before he glanced in his rearview mirror, to his utter shock a pair of green tear stained eyes looked back at him from the backseat. Slamming on the brakes he jerked the wheel hard. The tires sunk into the deep sand and his stomach turned as the cruiser flipped down into the ditch. "Holy shit!" He screamed frantically yanking free of his seatbelt and scrambling from the vehicle. He met the eyes of the woman in the backseat smiling at him. She had been beautiful once. She was perhaps twenty, with exotic green eyes, a heart shaped pale face, full pink lips, and russet colored hair. Then he saw the bruises and cuts. Her throat had been slit, her breasts had been mutilated, multiple stab wounds marring her alabaster skin.

She raised a slender arm covered in cuts and pointed to the abandoned warehouse in the distance. "We are here!" She whispered, then disappeared.

Eric tried to call for help on his radio. No service. Then with trembling hands he tried his cell phone. No service. Checking the crotch of he pants he sighed in relief to discover he hadn't pissed himself. He looked at his mangled car. It wasn't going anywhere, he may as well check out the warehouse. "I'm crazy." He muttered as he trudged up the walkway and pushed his way into the crumbling building.

Twenty minutes later he emerged from the door, falling upon his knees he proceeded to vomit onto the pavement. He desperately fumbled with his cell phone, it had full service.