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Authors: Richard Brown
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eighteen-wheeler. “Mine’s Dante.”
"It's..." James could barely find the breath
to answer. "It's James...Ackerman.”
Dante frowned. “James Ackerman, huh? Sounds
familiar. Have we met before?”
“No...I don’t think...so.” He threw his head
back on the headrest and gasped for air while his eyes pulsated in
their sockets.
“Well, anyway, if you couldn’t already tell,
I’m a commercial truck driver. Lucky for you, I have a little time
to kill before my next shipment.”
Dante pulled the eighteen-wheeler up to the
curb of Highway 41.
“Now where exactly would you like me to drop
you off?”
James didn’t answer. He may not have even
heard the question over the loud screaming in his ears.
“Just name a street.”
Dante turned left on to Highway 41 then
glanced over at James panting intensely in the passenger seat.
“Hey, man, you okay? You don’t look too good. Maybe I should take
you to the hospital instead.”
James grasped the edge of the seat
desperately trying to hold on to life while inside his body
temperature fueled to unthinkable heights.
Dante grabbed James’s shoulder and shook him
a little, feeling an immense heat rise from the stranger’s
body.
“Hey buddy, c’mon now!” he yelled. “Tell me
what’s wrong!”
James stopped breathing. His jaw dropped
open.
Dante turned the semi around and began
heading east down the highway. The closest hospital was fifteen
minutes away, but it would have to do.
“Shit!” Dante yelled. “What in the hell did
I do to deserve—”
A bright orange flame shot out from James’s
gaping mouth.
Dante nearly jumped out of his seat as the
stranger then burst into flames. He frantically fought to clear the
smoke from his face while reaching to open the window. The bright
orange flames now died down and gave way to a light blue simmer.
James’s body sizzled like a thick cut of bacon. Soon he’d be
cooked, well done.
Dante didn’t realize just how fast he was
going. He coughed and rubbed his eyes while the smoke filling the
cab thickened. While searching for the brake pedal with his foot,
he inadvertently turned the wheel to the right, steering the semi
off the road and into the grassy median where, up ahead, two parked
police cars sat with a deputy inside each, unaware of the monstrous
wrecking machine heading in their direction at over seventy
mph.
Eddie watched from the gas station parking
lot as the eighteen-wheeler plowed through the median down the
highway and collided into two police cars. The force of the
collision pushed both cars side-by-side fifty yards down the median
and almost tore one completely in half. A soundtrack of twisting
metal; the smell of gas—rubber, flew on the back of the wind.
Eddie smiled and imagined what the impact
had done to the policemen waiting like two halves of a wishbone
ready to be split apart.
Snap.
Chapter Five
1
Isaac pulled the Charger off to the side of
Highway 41 and skipped across the street to the mess in the median.
A mob of reporters had already arrived and surrounded the wreckage
like a pack of hungry vultures craving flesh. Simmons stood at the
end of the two totaled police cruisers talking to an emergency
medical technician. Isaac walked over and introduced himself to the
EMT.
Long streaks of blood slashed the top of the
most heavily damaged cruiser. The driver’s side door had been cut
out to remove the remains of Deputy William Randall distributed
across the front and back seats. The inside of the cruiser looked
like one large canvas where someone had created an original work of
art with fresh human paint.
“Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Looks pretty bad.” Isaac placed his hand on
the smashed hood of the eighteen-wheeler. The engine was still a
little warm. “Any info on the truck driver? I’m assuming he’s
dead.” He looked up at the semi’s broken windshield, then at the
police car closest to the semi, the one with the bright red streaks
across the roof.
“Yep,
"It's..." James could barely find the breath
to answer. "It's James...Ackerman.”
Dante frowned. “James Ackerman, huh? Sounds
familiar. Have we met before?”
“No...I don’t think...so.” He threw his head
back on the headrest and gasped for air while his eyes pulsated in
their sockets.
“Well, anyway, if you couldn’t already tell,
I’m a commercial truck driver. Lucky for you, I have a little time
to kill before my next shipment.”
Dante pulled the eighteen-wheeler up to the
curb of Highway 41.
“Now where exactly would you like me to drop
you off?”
James didn’t answer. He may not have even
heard the question over the loud screaming in his ears.
“Just name a street.”
Dante turned left on to Highway 41 then
glanced over at James panting intensely in the passenger seat.
“Hey, man, you okay? You don’t look too good. Maybe I should take
you to the hospital instead.”
James grasped the edge of the seat
desperately trying to hold on to life while inside his body
temperature fueled to unthinkable heights.
Dante grabbed James’s shoulder and shook him
a little, feeling an immense heat rise from the stranger’s
body.
“Hey buddy, c’mon now!” he yelled. “Tell me
what’s wrong!”
James stopped breathing. His jaw dropped
open.
Dante turned the semi around and began
heading east down the highway. The closest hospital was fifteen
minutes away, but it would have to do.
“Shit!” Dante yelled. “What in the hell did
I do to deserve—”
A bright orange flame shot out from James’s
gaping mouth.
Dante nearly jumped out of his seat as the
stranger then burst into flames. He frantically fought to clear the
smoke from his face while reaching to open the window. The bright
orange flames now died down and gave way to a light blue simmer.
James’s body sizzled like a thick cut of bacon. Soon he’d be
cooked, well done.
Dante didn’t realize just how fast he was
going. He coughed and rubbed his eyes while the smoke filling the
cab thickened. While searching for the brake pedal with his foot,
he inadvertently turned the wheel to the right, steering the semi
off the road and into the grassy median where, up ahead, two parked
police cars sat with a deputy inside each, unaware of the monstrous
wrecking machine heading in their direction at over seventy
mph.
Eddie watched from the gas station parking
lot as the eighteen-wheeler plowed through the median down the
highway and collided into two police cars. The force of the
collision pushed both cars side-by-side fifty yards down the median
and almost tore one completely in half. A soundtrack of twisting
metal; the smell of gas—rubber, flew on the back of the wind.
Eddie smiled and imagined what the impact
had done to the policemen waiting like two halves of a wishbone
ready to be split apart.
Snap.
Chapter Five
1
Isaac pulled the Charger off to the side of
Highway 41 and skipped across the street to the mess in the median.
A mob of reporters had already arrived and surrounded the wreckage
like a pack of hungry vultures craving flesh. Simmons stood at the
end of the two totaled police cruisers talking to an emergency
medical technician. Isaac walked over and introduced himself to the
EMT.
Long streaks of blood slashed the top of the
most heavily damaged cruiser. The driver’s side door had been cut
out to remove the remains of Deputy William Randall distributed
across the front and back seats. The inside of the cruiser looked
like one large canvas where someone had created an original work of
art with fresh human paint.
“Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Looks pretty bad.” Isaac placed his hand on
the smashed hood of the eighteen-wheeler. The engine was still a
little warm. “Any info on the truck driver? I’m assuming he’s
dead.” He looked up at the semi’s broken windshield, then at the
police car closest to the semi, the one with the bright red streaks
across the roof.
“Yep,
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