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I accelerated along the highway, anxious to get to the motel before the heavy rain began.I didn't make it.About two miles north of Interstate 70 the first raindrops found me – large droplets of water hit the bike, my helmet facemask, and my leather jacket with large loud splats. Through my jeans, I could feel the sting as I ran into them at seventy-five miles per hour. There were few of them, but they were significant enough as I rode into them that I had to slow down.I looked for cover, and saw an exit for a rural road – State Road 143. My highway went over the road on a couple of substantial bridges – one northbound and one southbound, so I figured I could hide beneath the highway under one of the bridges and stay dry until the storm passed. If worse came to worse, I could always just tough it out, ride the last seven miles to the motel, and get soaked.I exited the highway, turned left at the bottom of the ramp, and had just gotten underneath the protection of the highway overpass. He looked down. He was inside a chalk pentagram. Squirrel Girl there had summoned him, like a Wiccan calling a spirit! What the hell? Those damned spells never worked! He should know, his sister hung with some self proclaimed teen witches, and they couldn't even get simple love stuff to work out! He kept telling her it was all bullshit, but no, Robin kept telling him they must just be doing it wrong. Eventually, they'd get it right.It seemed like this creature had.Hank took a step forward. Or, at least, tried. While he could move, inside his little pentagram, there was something blocking him. Some invisible force field. He tried again, raising a hand. He felt nothing, but something was there.He wondered if mime's felt like this.Hank's movements finally caught the attention of squirrel girl. She looked up. Her face ... well, it was the face of a squirrel. Two black, almond shaped eyes lay on either side of a long head, ending in a black nose. Her eyes widened, clearly in surprise..
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