You pull over and get to work on the tyre. You pull out the jack, wrench, and roll the spare to the front of the van. Something is bothering you, but you can't figure it out. "I drainin' the pipe over there," Phillip says. The tyre is finally off, and you inspect the damage. It's completely shredded. That's when it hits you. There are no nails in sight. The road is pristine. As Phillip's figure retreats in the dark, a chime goes off near your foot. Phillip's phone must have fallen. He just got a text that turns the blood in your veins to ice water.