Hailey stood by the side of Route 93 in the midst of the Nevada desert. The last kind soul that had taken pity on the poor hitching girl left her there, needing to take an exit that would have taken her even further from her destination: Las Vegas. From what her last ride had told her she was barely twenty miles outside the city now. On the one hand, she was lucky that the sun was setting, as she wouldn’t have to endure the desert’s heat; on the other, the likelihood of cars passing by would lessen come nightfall. Endurance, thought Hailey, is what separates artists from stars.

            The type of town Hailey grew up in was too small and too dead for a pretty girl with talent. And that’s just what she was. She was tall, slender, blond-haired and blue-eyed and had a singing voice that left mother’s weeping and boys panting. She knew from the start that best chance of becoming famous would be to get herself into Vegas. If she could make it as a show-girl she could find connections and move on to fry the bigger fish out in California. Without much money and no support from her family, she opted to hitch her way into the big city.

            “I’ll get into Vegas, cruise the strip and someone will spot me and say, ‘That’s the girl I want for my next show’,” Hailey said to herself as she slowly walked down the highway. “I could sing at bars that take in the right clientele. Dress the right way, act the right way and I’ll be sure to get noticed. Someone will surely want me.” Hailey was glowing from the premature pride me felt. She was such a phenomenon in her little town that she knew she could make it in the business. “Then I’ll make it big, and I can buy myself a ticket to Hollywood, and leave all of this,” she said to the endless desert, “far, far behind me.”

            She hated Nevada and all of its deserts. They reminded her of her life: expansive, yet empty. While others would look out at the endless sky in front of where she walked, mixing reds and blues like only a sunset can, and marvel at it; Hailey only found it taunting. She wanted to be surrounded by buildings and lights, sounds and smells. She wanted to hear the music and clanging of casinos and see young people laughing as they strolled down the strip, full of good liquor and laughs. Hailey kicked a stone that was in her path and watched it tumble down the road, disturbing the dry dirt of the ground as it went; silently she said a little prayer, asking whoever might be listening to send someone for her soon.

            Not used to her prayers being answered, Hailey was startled when she first heard the sound of motors – hundreds of them, like lightening and its cape of thunder barreling down the highway. Her heart beat in rhythm to the sound and she was grateful enough to remember to thank whoever had listened. Staring down the highway she saw an oncoming stampede of motorcyclists speeding towards her like black and chrome stallions escaping a dust storm at their heels. Hailey’s chest rumbled from excitement, anxiety and the thunderous noise. Should I try to get a ride with them? Hailey asked herself. Is it really safe? She thought of the movies she had seen about Hell’s Angels and other rough motorcycle gangs. Hailey always tried to be cautious when she was hitch-hiking and calculate all possibilities. This could easily turn out ugly, but Hailey had a motto – endurance – and she was going to stick to it.

            As the bikes grew closer she started waving. Hailey clutched the strap of her backpack around her shoulder as though it would afford her protection. She had been smart enough to bring along a can of mace, but it’d be harder to reach riding on a motorcycle than sitting in a car. The bike that seemed to lead the gang began to slow and the others followed suit. There were about twenty, twenty-five from what Hailey quickly counted; mostly men, but a few scattered women here and there. The leader parked his bike, a sleek Harley Davidson that must look stunning when it’s not coated in dirt, and smiled as he approached Hailey. If her knees weren’t already near to knocking from worrying, they’d be taking to it at the sight of the young gang leader.

            “You alright?” he asked.

            He was dressed typically enough: sunglasses, leather jacket, denim jeans and heavy, black boots. But unlike the beer-bellied and bearded Hell’s Angels she imagined would be on the bikes, the leader and his gang were all young and beautiful. None of them could have been out of their twenties. Somehow this set her more at ease.

            “Y–yes,” Hailey managed after realizing that she was staring far too long at his chiseled chin, his chiseled everything. She could easily make out the muscles beneath his tight, gray shirt, and his jacket defined his broad shoulders.

            “You need a ride I take it?”

            “Yeah,” she replied, more quickly this time. “I’m heading for Las Vegas, are you taking this road much further?”

            The leader grinned, showing a set of perfect, pearly teeth. His glasses slid down his nose and his eyes met hers.

“We’re heading to Vegas as well; you can catch a ride if you like.” He reached out a leather-gloved hand. “I’m Troy.”

“Hailey,” she said as she took his hand in hers. “Are you guys some kind of gang?” The words were out of her mouth before she could decide if they sounded stupid or not.

Troy twisted halfway around and pointed to the back of his jacket. Across the top “The Pack” was written in deep, red letters, above a stitched wolf’s head. Hailey had heard about quite a few West Coast motorcycle gangs, but she had never heard of one called The Pack. She wondered if they were new, but didn’t want to ask for fear of sounded ignorant. Without another word he walked off and straddled his bike. Hailey hurried, thinking he was about to take off without her and she fidgeted awkwardly for a moment before getting on behind him. It was then that she realized something crucial.

“You guys aren’t wearing any helmets,” she said, sounding too much like her mother for her own comfort. The twenty-or-so men behind her and two-or-three women all laughed. It sounded like hyenas cackling after a kill. Hailey didn’t understand what was funny about being safe.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” Troy said, smiling at her again. “None of us have ever been in an accident. You’re in safe hands.”

Troy kicked up his break and started his bike. It roared into life and the dozens of motorcycles behind Hailey answered its call. Hailey gripped Troy tightly, afraid she might fly off when he got going, but blushed when he touched her hand. He seemed even bigger and stronger than he looked. “It’s okay,” he said to her over the noise, “just hold on and yell if you need anything.”

And like that she was back on the road to her fame and fortune. She had never been on a motorcycle before – she loved it. The wind whipped through her hair and the sound of the motors was more thrilling than frightening once you were among them. This was the greatest she had ever felt, especially being so close to a guy like Troy. He was so different from the boys in her hometown. They were scrawny and had nothing going for them; she’d be lucky to have found one that felt any desire to go to college or seek out a career. They could never be the leader of anything. She remembered then that Troy had said his gang was heading into Las Vegas. What if they were going to stay there, at least for a while?

Hailey started to think about what would happen when they got into the city limits. They would need a place to stay for the night, wouldn’t they? Perhaps she could ask Troy if she could crash with them. Hailey had never been with a man before. If it was ever going to happen, she wanted it to be with someone like Troy, someone strong who could make her feel safe, yet empowered. Maybe this was it. Maybe Troy and she would fall in love and he could help her on her way to stardom, intimidating anyone who messed with her and offering a shoulder to cry on when she failed at an audition. Stars… Hailey looked up and saw the first few hundreds of stars that would freckle the desert’s sky that night. She wanted to shine like them, shine amongst the stars. No, she wanted to shine like the moon. There was a beautiful full moon out. In the clear skies of the desert you could make out every last crevice on its surface.

            Hailey snapped out of her daydreams when she felt Troy shift in her arms as though he were uncomfortable. He was bending his back and his arms as though they sore, trying to get the kinks out. She would have tried to rub his shoulders, but that would have been a silly idea on a motorcycle going nearly seventy miles an hour. Troy was shifting more and more and she couldn’t tell if it was just the bike, but she thought that she heard him growl, deep in his throat. Something had to be wrong.

            “Are you alright?” she shouted over the motor.

            Hailey heard the strange growling again, but this time it wasn’t just Troy, it was from behind her as well. She turned around to look at the other members of The Pack following them and saw that they were all grinning wildly. Their teeth were just as bright and perfect as Troy’s, only they looked strange, pointed, and everyone seemed to be… larger. They were twisted and moving like Troy. Hailey turned back around, thinking that it had to just be the dimming light playing tricks on her eyes. The gas fumes from the bikes were twisted the air and making things look uneven.

            Troy laughed, and the growl was distinct now. It sounded nothing like the clean, sweet voice he had first addressed her with.

            “Troy!” Hailey shouted over the motor, beginning to panic. “What’s going on?”

            The leader of The Pack looked to look back at Hailey, his face a wicked distortion between that of a man and that of a wolf, fur bristling the sides, teeth sharp as knives and corn-yellow eyes.

“I’m afraid you won’t be making it to Granny’s house, sweetie.”