A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety Novels & Stories

The light exploded, the voices exploding into a wailing crescendo . MENE! TEKEL UPHARSIN! And Gavin collapsed to his knees alongside Route 95, North Portsmouth. *** He looked up. Intermittent highway lights blazed in the darkness. For several seconds he remained there along the highway, kneeling, disoriented. Memories of that dark place and the thing in the darkness with the screaming voice faded quickly. He’d gotten into an accident, had hit his head—on the damn airbag, of all things—and must have hallucinated it all.

My mentor, Steven Gilford, fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, caution weighed down his voice. "Our research team is heading north, to the Fallen Temple. We are searching for a fragment of the legendary Serum Manuscript. That place is lethal. If you go, there is a real chance you will not come back." He paused, then asked the question anyway. "Are you really willing to leave everything you have here and come with us?" Another beat passed.

The black SUV tore down the I-95 highway at one hundred and twenty miles per hour. Oryn was behind the wheel, his face a mask of grim concentration. He wove through traffic with the precision of a stunt driver, forcing minivans and sedans to scatter into the breakdown lanes. In the backseat, the atmosphere was less composed. "Faster, Oryn!" Cyprian barked. He was clutching his phone in one hand and Vespera’s hand in the other. "Call the Police Commissioner! Tell him I want a rolling roadblock! I want every intersection green between here and St. Jude’s!"

MABEL I found another video file. Different camera angle. Street_Camera_Crash_Site.mp4 My hands shook as I clicked it. This was traffic camera footage. Mounted at an intersection near the parking garage. Timestamp: **November 12, 1999. 12:05 AM** The street was mostly empty. Late night. Light traffic. At 12:05 AM, my mother's blue Honda came into frame. Driving slowly. Unsteadily. Weaving slightly.

*** On the highway, the black SUV stayed firmly in the fast lane, its speed well over ninety miles per hour. Cars around it swerved out of the way, but Broderick never slowed down. He jerked the steering wheel and forced the SUV through a narrow gap between two vehicles. A Volkswagen sedan was clipped, its driver instinctively slamming the brakes. The black Toyota behind it couldn't react in time and plowed straight into it. A red BMW in the fast lane was going too fast to stop. It crashed into the pileup, metal colliding in a deafening roar. Three cars tangled together, steel twisting and screeching. The entire highway descended into chaos as traffic ground to a halt.

We scrambled up the steep, winding floor of the natural trench, moving at a frantic pace until the wash flattened out, depositing us onto the gravel shoulder of an isolated, fog-shrouded secondary highway. But we weren't free. Directly across the asphalt, idling silently in the middle of the road with its headlights completely blacked out, sat a massive, unmarked black SUV. The driver's side door slowly clicked open, and the heavy, measured crunch of boots stepped onto the gravel.

On the new route, I saw him coming towards me, giving him exactly what he wanted but I had to lure him to my trap in order to catch him. I unlocked my door and jumped just as the other car came into contact with mine and so did the latter. "I knew it!" I spat as I stood to my feet. He brought himself just right to my feet. The street was deserted. Trash cans were filled to the brim to the extent of vomiting out their contents. The buildings were old, rusty and disheveled, clothes hanging out from a few of the balconies. It smelt rancid due to the rotting garbage. A smell of burning cooking oil invaded my poor nostrils, making me nauseous. The stench of the LAPD offices was far much better. I

Stacked with his resume and other irrelevant files and documents he’d typed out of interest. River gazes ahead once more, just in time as the traffic lets up. Going twenty-five miles through Manhattan’s streets, River gasps as he gets a glimpse of the Black Co. building, hovering in the distance. At least a quarter mile away, and much bigger than River thought it was.

A black van Twenty Nineteen (2019) Honda Odyssey LX A9 stopped in front of a huge building. When the black van Twenty Nineteen (2019) Honda Odyssey LX A9 stopped flashes of different cameras and cellphones covered the place. Reporters and fans are waiting for the person inside of the black van Twenty Nineteen (2019) Honda Odyssey LX A9 to go out. Those people surrounding the van are curious as to who is inside it.

The sedan's engine was so loud it felt like it was shaking Elara's teeth loose. The rain was coming down from the sky like ice. It was freezing and then breaking into pieces in the air. These pieces were like knives that were swirling around the wrecked cars on Highway 90. "Elara, sign the purge " Julian's voice was barely a whisper against the deafening pitch of the car's white noise, his face distorted by the straining muscles of his neck as he pinned Professor Vaughan into the churning mud.