The minivan’s window rolled down. A pack of ferrets stared up at Des, frozen.

The ferret standing on the window buttons was quivering with terror. More ferrets clung to the steering wheel and braced themselves against the shifter. Two small heaps of them covered the pedals. One was curled around the top of the rearview mirror. A masked ferret sat on the headrest with its tail curled around its feet.

“Hey, Sol?” Des called.

“We have to get to Portland,” said the ferret on the headrest.

There was a long, confused silence. It broke when a white ferret brushed against the volume knob on the radio. Static burst out of the speakers, with what might have been “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” flickering behind it. The noise startled one of the other ferrets. It leapt into the air, flailed, and landed on the edge of a cupholder.

The white ferret swatted the volume knob back to mute. The only sound was the other ferret’s claws scratching against the plastic in a frantic battle against gravity.

Sol leaned against the minivan next to Des. He nodded to the ferrets. “Hey, guys. You parked us in.”

“Yeah,” Des said. “Um. Could you back up?”

“Or go forward,” Sol offered.

“Sure.” Des nodded. “Either way works.”

“We have to get to Portland,” said the ferret again.

“Hm,” Sol said. “Can you start heading for Portland now?”

The ferret on the headrest kept staring at Sol until the window rolled all the way up. Sol and Des stepped back. The minivan felt its way out of the parking lot and managed a jerky turn onto the highway.

“Huh,” Sol said.

“Were those ferrets?” Des asked.

“I thought they were weasels.”

Des sighed, relieved. 

Sol watched the minivan disappear around a roundabout.