The beer finally caught up with Nathan about 30 miles from Humboldt, while he was driving across the narrow levee road that traveled through the Hatchie River bottoms. There was no traffic, the road was dark, empty and he needed to relieve himself. After pulling his car off the highway onto the small gravel shoulder next to a bridge, Nathan walked partway down the steep slope that adjoined the road and led underneath the bridge. He figured to just get out of sight in case someone happened along; but in reality, he was just trying to be nice and could care less whether someone saw him or not. The night breeze was fresh from a recent light rain, and he’d forgotten how nice it was to breathe air without all the pollutants offered by a big city.
“Put it up and zip it up,” Nathan heard in a weak voice coming from very close behind him. “And don’t turn around.”
Nathan turned around.