A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety Novels & Stories

The localized seismic shockwave hit the earth like a subterranean hammer. The asphalt buckled and exploded. A massive trench, ten feet deep and twenty feet wide, ripped across the entire width of the highway, severing the northbound lanes completely. But Jabari wasn't finished. Channeling the Star-Code, he reached into the exposed earth, drawing upon the deep, silicate minerals buried in the bedrock.

"Sorry, I completely forgot about Parker's birthday." Her words were almost laughable. Wasn't every notification on her phone a reminder? Could she really not see them? Or was her affair so consuming that everything else slipped her mind? I took out the divorce papers and flipped to the final page. Struggling to keep my composure, I handed them to her. "If you could sign here–" Before I could finish, Beatrice's phone rang. Maxwell's panicked voice crackled through. "Ms. Thorne, the power's out at my place. Can you come over?"

another voice yelled, the sound of heavy duty air brakes hissing violently as a massive row of steel frames rounded the corner. The rumbling turned into a deafening, mechanical roar as a massive convoy of heavy, custom built motorcycles tore through the dark, their massive tires throwing up ten foot walls of spray. The blinding, high intensity halogen headlights flooded the entire highway, pinning Valerie's broken, unmoving form directly in their white hot glare as the lead bikes began to fish tail, sliding sideways across the wet asphalt straight toward her.

“Just hit the road—they took the north access. Black SUV. No plates. Fast.” We speed after them, headlights carving through morning fog. The road curves into a two-lane highway riddled with potholes and blind turns. Trees blur past, shadows stretching as the first hints of sun push through the sky. Cali is breathing too fast. I glance at her—her face pale, eyes wild, mouth open like she’s trying to scream but can’t find the air. “He has her,” she whispers. “He has Belle.” “I know,” I say tightly.

The big container truck was running on a deserted highway. At midnight, the cold mist began to spread everywhere. It affects the driver's vision. But for some reason, this road has only one large container running alone. The gloomy atmosphere made the driver cold, and he wore a black mask covering his entire face. Through the rearview mirror, a large tattoo could be seen on his neck. "Arturo, do you have any cigarettes?"

Sophie's pov **The Interception** The Greyhound bus shuddered as it lumbered onto the I-90, its diesel engine groaning under the weight of fifty-seven passengers and their collective exhaustion. Lila Blackstone sat curled against the window in seat 32C, her knees drawn to her chest, her fingers nervously picking at the frayed edges of her hoodie sleeves. The glass was cool against her forehead as she watched the city lights blur into streaks of gold against the gathering twilight.

"The road is a trap." Right on cue, Dutch’s voice crackled through our earpieces, tight, cold, and razor-sharp from his ridge position three hundred yards up. "Overwatch to Strike," Dutch whispered over the static. "I've got heavy diesel rumble coming down the eastern highway. Dust clouds rising above the tree line. Vanguard Nine is early." My golden LUS static flared instantly across my retinas, overriding the gloom of the misty forest with sharp tactical telemetry. [HOSTILE ADVANCE DETECTED.]

​We pulled back onto the mountain road, but our respite was brutally short-lived. ​Barely ten minutes later, as we crested a steep ridge surrounded by dense pine forests, two sleek, matte-black SUVs crested the curve behind us at reckless speed, their high-beam headlights slicing through the predawn fog with blinding intensity. No license plates. No commercial markings. Pure corporate extraction units. ​"Ares-9," Zayne muttered, his jaw tightening as he slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The engine roared, throwing us forward into the winding descent. ​"They picked up our transponder echo!"

The Gates of the Citadel The massive, heavily armored black corporate van cruised smoothly over the crest of the central valley, its specialized tires hum-clicking against the pristine, private asphalt of the highway. The early morning sun was a bright, golden disc breaking over the jagged mountain ridge, completely burning away the remaining mountain fog and lighting up the valley floor below.

I turned to look at the bougainvillea blooming brilliantly along the roadside and found myself smiling too. There was still a long future ahead of me, with so many things I wanted to do and places to visit. And this time, I would live only for myself. The car drove along the coastal road as sunlight scattered across the ocean like shattered gold. I closed my eyes slightly, the corners of my lips lifting upward. After ninety-nine canceled weddings, I finally understood something. Some men are not worth waiting for. Some years of youth are not meant to be wasted. And some love should never require you to lose your dignity.