Taking the Night Post

Tapped that straightened mudflap with the toe of my combat boot, and it didn't budge. Darkness rolled thick over RattleSnake Way, but this red rig is tuned, lashed down, and sitting pretty on the white stripe. I climbed straight up the rear tire, vaulted past the lashed pry bar in the bed, and planted both boots dead center on the cab roof. Cold air hit my vest, but I locked my knees, crossed my arms, and took the watch. Let the night try whatever it wants—this stretch is locked down, and that's the bottom line.