Chapter 1: Crash

"It was a dark and stormy night."

Alex bolted out the door, dashing as quickly as he dared through the darkness. What the blackout took away in vision the rain gave back double in sound, roaring down against man, machine, and macadam with a deafening disdain.

Alex would have to trust that the warehouse door closed itself behind him. His outstretched hand found his car just a half-step beyond where he'd guessed, the door handle just a few inches to the right. It was a good thing he always parked in the same spot. It was also a good thing he'd bought a new battery last week -- maybe he didn't have beer money, but he had a car that started right up.

The headlights reflected off the heavy rain; it was going to be slow going.

He'd gone several blocks on Industrial Parkway before he saw another car. A half-block up, an old white RAV4 turned onto the road from the left.

As Alex reached the intersection, he caught something out of the corner of his eye, something big and beige and boxy and barrelingrightathim. He jerked the wheel to the right, the truck turned left, and the highlight reel of his life ended just in time to jerk left and avoid smacking the curb. The rear end got light but didn't break loose; car and driver unclenched at about the same time, and Alex thanked God that nobody had been parked on this side of the street.

The truck lumbered off ahead of him, and Alex now realized its lights were off. It was also straddling both lanes, and gaining fast on the white SUV...

... and then it drifted right, obscuring the small car ahead of it. Was it going to--

The truck bounded left, apparently just in the nick of time. The SUV's headlights caught its side as it began to pass.
And then the truck lurched right, its brake lights glowing like a demon's eyes suddenly open; the white wagon darted toward the side of the road, but the truck kept coming; there was nowhere for the SUV to go except--

The SUV bounced up on the curb and stopped abruptly.
Then Alex heard the crash.

Alex sped up; he started digging in his coat for his phone.

The truck stopped; someone wearing a dark hooded raincoat jumped out of the passenger side and waddled toward the SUV, around to the right side. Another figure in a matching coat appeared from in front of the crabbed truck and waddled toward the left side of the SUV.

Alex pulled over, stopping a car length from the SUV; it had hit a telephone pole. Alex scanned the ground -- it didn't look like there were any downed power lines. He was still digging for his phone with one hand as he reached across with the other to undo his seat belt. It retracted slowly, catching him as he leaned down to find his Mag-Lite.

The two figures from the truck were trying to open the doors of the SUV. Either they were short, or RAV4s were taller than he thought ... A third figure appeared behind the truck; he seemed to be staring at Alex, though his face was obscured by the hood of his coat...

... and then he scurried to the back of the SUV and began tugging on the hatch release.

Alex felt his phone in his pocket, finally. He pulled it out -- but his hand was wet from his coat, and the phone slipped through his fingers and disappeared. He began digging past the wet coat, feeling between the seat and the center console ... where'd it go?

Outside, the figure on the left had gotten the SUV driver door open. He was tugging on the driver's arm -- and the driver was tugging back.

What the hell?

Alex hit the car horn; the three figures were startled, and all looked back toward Alex -- but a moment later they were back to what they were doing. Alex didn't know what was going on, but it was pretty clear these guys weren't trying to help.

Alex was finally free of his seatbelt. He abandoned the phone and reached forward, pulling his flashlight out from under the seat as he opened the car door and jumped out.

"Hey, stop that!" he shouted through the drenching rain. "Get away from there!"

The one at the back of the SUV turned around, his oversized raincoat obscuring his features.

Alex reversed his grip on the Mag-Lite, holding it at the wider lens end, the long metal shaft heavy with batteries raised up like a club.

"MOVE!" he barked.

The one at the back jumped away, running around the right side of the SUV. Alex advanced on the figure still tugging on the SUV driver's arm.

"I SAID MOVE!" he bellowed; the short man leaped away from the door and scrambled toward his truck; Alex saw the other two doing the same.

Alex stepped up to the open door, never taking his eyes off the short figures as they clambored abord their truck. "Are you all right?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the airbag had gone off, but whoever it was seemed to be moving, pushing back on the deflating bag.

"Dammit!" The voice was female. Alex glanced into the truck to see a woman flailing and shoving and spitting and coughing; there was white powder everywhere. "Those lunatics ran me off the road!"

The lunatics had gotten their truck in gear; Alex turned his attention back to the larger vehicle. The wet side glared white from his car's headlights, but the bright-colored stripes along the top and the balloon-like logo were instantly recognizable: Mom's Cookies. The truck lurched, spat, and then lumbered forward. Alex stepped toward it, but quickly realized that trying to stop it was even dumber than what he'd just done. Instead, he waited for the truck to straighten out, then looked along the back side for the license plate. It was an old blue-and-gold type: MOMS 12.

He turned his attention back to the driver, who'd freed herself of the airbag and was now trying to get out. "Hey, get back here!" she shouted after the truck. She seemed okay, but Alex wasn't sure she should be jumping around just yet. He moved back toward her, hands up in a gesture that said both "slow down there" and "please don't hurt me." She saw this and seemed to think better of trying to pursue the truck on foot. "Where the hell are they going?"

Alex grinned. "The Sandpeople frighten easily, but they'll be back -- and in greater numbers."

It took her a moment, but she got it. "Cute. Did you get the license number of that truck?"

Alex blinked. And then he laughed. She looked at him quizzically, but he couldn't stop laughing. Finally she realized what he was laughing at, and she smiled. Alex took a deep breath to stop from laughing. "Yeah, actually, I did." He let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry -- I know it's not funny, I just ... you never expect to get asked that question about an actual truck."

"I never expected to ask about an actual truck, but..." she looked out over her mangled hood; there was a telephone pole where her radiator should have been. "Sonofa-- Can you believe those guys? It was like they did it on purpose!"

"Are you okay?" Alex thought to use his flashlight as an actual flashlight; he began checking her out.
"Hey, watch where you point that thing," she said, squinting. "I'm fine, I guess. Just a little rattled."
"You sure?" He didn't see any blood, or limbs bending in ways they shouldn't. He took a step back and checked out the damage to the car. He wondered if it was safe to stay in it; he knew cars didn't explode on impact like they did in the movies, but if it was leaking stuff, or something shorted... "Let me call 9-1-1."
"I'm fine, really. Just ... I need to get out."
"You're not supposed to--"
"I need to get out now," she said forcefully, practically jumping out of the SUV. Alex moved to catch her, but she kept to her feet on her own; he stepped back to give her space.

She stretched slowly, rotating and shaking various parts to make sure they were intact. She had on a full-length raincoat, so he could hardly see anything "interesting," but that never stops a man from looking...

The rain wasn't coming down as hard as it had been, but it was still steady. Alex was about to suggest she put her hood up when she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, tension visibly draining as the raindrops washed the airbag stuff away.

She was pretty.

"So are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna call the police?"
Alex realized he'd been staring. "Oh. Right. My phone's in the car. I'll be right back."

There it was, in the middle of the seat. Alex picked it up and started to get in, but stopped; for some reason he thought it rude to leave her standing by herself in the rain. He looked up; she was ... where'd she go?

Alex hurried forward, phone in hand and starting to dial, when he saw her in front of her cracked car, surveying the damage. He slowed down, breathing a sigh of relief. Of course she was checking out her car, what did he think might--

She bent down, looking at the right side; when he came around to see what she was looking at, he grimaced in sympathy for the poor SUV. The telephone pole had hit right of center -- and the bumper and bodywork were gnarled up around the wheel. Then Alex noticed the shimmering puddle of radiator fluid being stretched toward the storm drain.

"He's dead, Jim," he said in his best (bad) Dr. McCoy impersonation.

She looked up from the stricken vehicle, worry on her face becoming something an annoyed smirk. "Geek," she said, shaking her head. But Alex thought he saw a genuine smile creep in, just before she walked past him back around toward the still-open driver's door.

He remembered that he was going to call the police. If she wasn't hurt, was it still an emergency? He decided it was still 9-1-1 worthy, especially if that truck was still speeding around without any headlights, and dialed.

"9-1-1 Emergency."
"Yeah, there's been an accident, on Industrial Parkway at ... at ... about a half-mile from Grand, south of Grand. A truck ran a woman off the road into a telephone pole."
"Is anyone hurt?"
"No, she seems okay, but listen, the guys in the truck were..." Alex didn't really know what they were doing, really. "Anyway, the truck took off, and the headlights were off."
"Did you exchange information?"
"What? No, I wasn't involved, I was behind them and saw it, so I stopped. But no, nobody exchanged any information, they ... they just took off. But I got their license plate. M-O-M-One-Two. They were going north..." Alex looked up the road, but of course they were long gone now.
"Okay, sir, are you sure no one's injured?"
"Yeah, she's fine. Listen, it's a Mom's Cookies truck. There were three guys, I think they were ... I think they might be dangerous."
"Okay, sir, the patrol cars in the area are being notified. You said someone hit a telephone pole?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, sir, without approaching the pole, do you see any wires on the ground, any loose cables?"
"No, I think the pole's fine. Her RAV4 isn't going anywhere, though."
"All right, sir, can I get your name, sir?"
"Alex Hayden." Wouldn't they have that from Caller ID or something?
"Okay, Mr. Hayden sir, and who is the driver of the disabled vehicle?"
Good question. "Uh, hold on."