Meanwhile, near Rock Springs, New Mexico
The shotgun's slide racked again, a twelve-gauge roar splitting the night air. Even after the renaming of Route 666, the region seemed to be haunted. And so far from Gallup, too. Caleb racked the slide of his SPAS-12 Combat Shotgun again and approached the Shapeshifter where it lay crippled on the ground. Thin columns of smoke rose from the buckshot wounds over its body, particularly from where one pellet had nicked the heart. Cal sighed, saluted the stricken beast, pressed the muzzle of his shotgun to its chest and delivered the coup de grâce. He pulled several new shells from his belt and topped up the magazine tube, turning back towards his monstrous pickup.
He pulled the rear driver's side door open, opening the false floor and sliding the shotgun into a gun rack hidden under the back seats. He locked the false floor in place again and closed the door, checking for any witnesses. Or if the Shapeshifter had any accomplices. He sighed and ran a hand through his ragged hair, dragging his fingers down along his face. Needed a shave. And maybe some sleep. He leaned against the door of the armoured Ford F550 and breathed a heavy sigh. The silence of the night was again shattered by a cellphone ringing. He looked around irritatedly, his eyes narrowing until he realised it was his own phone.
"Hello?" Cal asked as he picked up, "Caleb Daly speaking."
"Cal, this is Tex. We've got a problem."
"I'm listening," Cal replied, his brow creasing.
"I just got a message from some Hunters in Gallup. You probably heard about their latest gig on the news."
"Damn right I did. What the Hell got into them?" Cal cut Tex off.
"Ever heard of the Shadow-That-Walks?"
"They killed that thing?" Cal asked, his interest piqued.
"Yeah. But the FBI arrived before they could skip town and one of their own is in custody now."
"And they need backup?" Cal sighed.
"Got it in one."
"Still got the magic then," Cal laughed, climbing into the driver's seat and jamming his keys in the ignition, "You wanna send me a contact number?"
"Sure. Her name is Elenna."
"Thanks. And hey, I'll drop by next time I'm passin' through. Been too long since we talked face to face," Cal continued, "Take care. Bye."
"Bye."
Cal's phone beeped, a new number arriving via text message. He added it, under "Elenna from Tex", and sent a message.
"A friend of Tex's here. The cavalry's on the way. Where are you?"
Twenty-two klicks to Gallup. The truck's engine roared into life, the tuned V8 thundering under the hood. He slid the six-speed into gear and floored the gas pedal. The speedometer and rev counter jumped sharply as he crunched through the gears, not only laughing in the face of the speed limit, but smashing it with a blunt object.