Hanks wasn't sure what he just heard, but his heart leaped to a steady chest pounding rivaling the powerstroke of his 6.7 liter turbo diesel engine. He hadn't felt this level of unprovoked fear since his second tour in Iraq, and didn't think he ever would again.

The road home was occasionally thrilling, with its low line of sight from dozens of ravenous hills and ninety degree curves. The only light on the road came from his dual beam halogen headlamps as he whipped around the corners to Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red, White, & Blue."

"Oh, justice will be served and the battle will rage:
This big dog will fight when you rattle his cage.
An' you'll be sorry that you messed with the U.S. of A.
'Cos we'll put a boot in your ass, it's the American way."

Occasionally his lights will reflect back at him off the eyes of a possum or a deer, but those eyes firing back at him as he rounded that corner were from no deer. And it couldn't have said what he thought it said. As the smoke and dust cleared in his rear-view mirror from his sudden stop, Officer Sam Hanks squeezed his standard issue Smith and Wesson 9mm handgun a little tighter, prepping it to fire. He hadn't even realized he had grabbed it, and he couldn't remember turning the truck off - but there it sat, still as a crocodile below a thirsty wildebeest.

Competing egos rattled in his head.

"Come on Hanks. Get it together. It was just an owl or something. Fire it up and get your ass home."

"Bullshit Sammy. You chicken-shit, mother-fucker. If it's some crazy asshole, do you really want him trailing you home to your wife and kids?"

As always, it was the bastard in Hank's head that usually won the day. He took a deep