Novel & Cerita A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety

Black The Origin Chapter 37: Stepping out. It was a busy street in the Arzona Capital. At the market, lots of tourists and citizens have preoccupied the streets. Alkhun whose wearing his black cloak keeps bumping on different people in the streets. It has been weeks since he started traveling avoiding any capitals. He headed to the Capital of Arzona in the southern part of the East Continent.

Eасh ѕеаrсh hаѕ tо bе wаrrаntеd ѕо Rуаn іѕ taking a ѕеrіоuѕ rіѕk by hеlріng mе tоdау. “I gоt him, Blаkе. Whеrе are you?” “Pаrkеd оutѕіdе Cаlіbеr.” “Pеrfесt! Hе just lеft twеntу mіnutеѕ ago. Hе’ѕ оn thе Nеw Jеrѕеу turnpike. If you hurrу, you саn catch hіm.”

The journey north was not a drive; it was a "Data-Ghosting" operation. They moved through the "Surveillance Corridor" of the Northeast in a salvaged 1990s delivery van, its white paint peeling like dead skin. The vehicle had no GPS, no Bluetooth, and no electronic fuel injection. It was a mechanical relic, invisible to the "Common Ledger’s" automated traffic sensors.

The car, black and quiet with dark glass, moved along the rotting industrial edge of Newark like a shark moving through fouled water. It had been an abrupt change from Manhattan's shining canyons to this landscape of chain-link fencing, graffiti-covered warehouses, and the hollow, echoing quiet of abandoned industry. Jonah rode it all, a tight ball tightening in his stomach.

The terrain flattened out instantly into the massive, sweeping expanse of the western fields miles of low winter grass cut down the center by a wide, empty two-lane blacktop highway. A kilometer ahead, the three heavy Blood Stone transport trucks were just turning onto the asphalt, their dark crimson hulls gleaming under the pale sun, their exhaust pipes belching thick plumes of black diesel smoke as they gathered speed. "Hold on!" I shouted. I didn't turn the wheel to follow the road. I aimed the reinforced iron bumper of my lead interceptor dead center across the open field, taking a brutal, diagonal line of interception straight through the tall grass. The truck launched into the air as w

I stood in front of the burning fire as I waited for her to join me there. It was at the Moon fire altar, a very sacred one, it is not always used, except in cases like this and it was always a dangerous affair. The small chants from the crowd made me turn and there she was. I was upset that she had kept me waiting but I was startled by how pretty she looked, I could not deny that part. I turned and faced the fire. She stood beside me and said nothing. There was no apology and that made me cringe at how disrespectful she is going to be.

The sky wasn't just dark from the storm clouds. On the very edge of the horizon, the ground had turned completely black. A massive, moving carpet of dark, twisted bodies was spilling over the hills, covering the highway, crushing the old cars, and swallowing the dirt. It looked like a giant wave of angry black ants, stretching out as far as the eye could see, moving toward me in a slow, crushing line. And right in the middle of that black wave, three giant, pale shapes stood tall, their massive heads reaching up into the dark gray clouds.

"It goes nowhere. It connects to Route 95 twenty miles from here.. Julians men are already at the checkpoint. If we go that way we will drive into their hands." "Then we will not go to the highway " I said. I leaned over. Turned up the air conditioning. I did not want my father to get too hot. "Look at the map Sarah. There has to be a road or an old track that we can take." "There is a chemical wash " she said. She looked in the rearview mirror. The black SUV was behind us. "It is a road. It is not. It is really rough. This car is not made for that kind of road. If we get stuck we will be in trouble."

Emotions only ever clouded the plan. They made you weak. And weakness was the quickest way to die in the underworld. Which was why he needed to shift his focus. Back to her. The one who had really haunted him longer than Sarah ever did. The ghost racer. He thought back to that day, months ago, when a black and red blur had sliced through his convoy on a rain slick highway at over 200 km/h. A wild, reckless stunt that no sane driver would’ve pulled. But this one? They didn’t just survive. They thrived.

Acting. "We're going to make it," Maya whispered, as if saying it louder would break the spell. "Yes," I said, and for a moment, I believed it. We took the exit James had prescribed, a two-lane country road that cut through sleepy, wooded suburbs. It was the back way to the airport, avoiding all major traffic cameras. The trees were a blur of dark green in the headlights. Then, two things happened at once. A black SUV with dark tinted windows pulled out of a concealed driveway a hundred yards ahead, blocking both lanes of the narrow road.