Following the Hearse in Rain

Rain hit the windshield as Jack followed the hearse across the state line. Each swipe of the wipers offered only momentary clarity, mirroring the fog in his own mind. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, the rhythmic thump-thump of the tires a morbid metronome counting down to whatever came next. He glanced at the passenger seat, at the worn photograph lying there – Sarah's smiling face, a cruel reminder of the life stolen too soon. A wave of grief, sharp and sudden, threatened to drown him. He blinked rapidly, forcing it back. He had a job to do. The hearse, a black leviathan, turned off the main highway onto a narrow, winding road, swallowed by the dense, shadowy woods. Jack followed, his headlights cutting twin swaths through the downpour. He noticed another car behind him, keeping a steady distance. A dark sedan, impossible to make out in the gloom. He frowned. Was he being followed, or was it just coincidence? He decided to keep a close eye on it.