• There is a highway, somewhere in southern Kansas. The highway has no number and no name, but it is known to those who have driven it as the Devil's highway. It is only accessible by those who believe, or those so inclined.

    It cannot be found on purpose, and it is never in any way intentional. No one who has been there will ever want to be there again, and rarely does anyone speak of it.

    Those who do will tell you that it can happen anytime, anywhere in souther Kansas. It does not matter, night or day. All that matters is that you are driving alone on a fairly unoccupied stretch of highway.

    They invariably speak of the red sky, stretching eternally in all directions, and of things impossible to understand by those who have not seen. CD's and tapes do not work, and your radio will only pick up one stations: 66.6.

    In fact, your radio will not turn off. It will play constantly, not music, but screams, grisly, panicked screams that become more and more recognizable: aquanintances, then friends, then family. Exactly four minutes and nine seconds before the radio shuts itself down, you will hear one more voice screaming for the time before the voice shuts itself down in a choked gurgle that is almost happy.

    That voice will be yours.

    They say that if you should somehow find yourself there, do not stop driving, not even at the end, when a building looms in the distance and comes closer, not even when it begins to follow you in a way, always in front of your car, dead center.

    That building is your salvation. It is the end of your journey through these lands.

    No one knows what exactly happens to those who stop.

    They are never heard from again.