the ice cream truck pulls to a stop with its headlights facing the diner. everyone aims their guns at the truck. tense. from the ice cream truck. a dark bloody shoe steps to the ground. moving up the long grey pant leg spotted with blood stains to reveal a skeletally thin man in tattered coveralls. say hello to the ice cream man. he looks like he's been through hell -- literally. as he steps into the beams of the headlights we can see him even more clearly. he's tall. too tall. his clothes don't seem to fit him. and he's unnaturally thin as if he's been stretched like taffy. if he got down on all fours, you might mistake him for some kind of spider. he surveys the diner, the garage, the roof -- assessing the situation. on the roof, the men wait for something to happen.
percy is swivelling left and right, firing like mad.
the roar of wind ripping off the plain is all that can be heard. on bob as his head drops down with drunken fatigue. sleep.
the truck stop is lit up like a christmas tree. if you didn't know better, you might mistake the place for business as usual. kyle and audrey stand on the roof, taking in the dramatic change.
bob and jeep keep watch. the spectral lights in the distance seem to be growing larger -- closer. charlie's screaming rises up from below.
jeep and bob watch helplessly as the army of creatures has closed within a hundred yards of the diner. their ranks stretch back seemingly without end into the darkness.