The Tapping

The car died on a desolate stretch of highway. Dad walked into the dark to find reception. Mom followed hours later, locking me in with a terrified order: "Do not open this door." I spent the night huddled in the backseat, listening to a wet, gurgling wail from the woods and a slow, rhythmic *thump... thump...* against the roof. When dawn broke, I saw Dad in the distance. He looked like he was hugging a tree. I stepped out to call him, and then I looked up.