A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety Novels & Stories

Too thick. Whatever he left behind in me isn’t done. I climb into my truck and whisper a quick prayer to whatever god might be listening that my engine doesn’t treat me the same way the rest of today has, then turn the key. Thankfully, it starts, and I’m peeling out of the parking lot before Vanessa can guilt-trip me into working another double. As I merge onto the highway, a large black blur cuts through my peripheral vision. I jerk my head toward it, pulse spiking, but there’s nothing there.

he says, his finger tracing the digital map overlay. “Terminal 5. International departures. They must have a flight booked already.” “Hold on tight,” I tell him, my foot pressing the accelerator harder. The car hits 0 to 60 in a blink, the force pressing us back into the seats with a surge of adrenaline. Traffic parts even wider on the I-190, the stretch clear ahead under the afternoon sun. Wind howls through the cracked windows, whipping our hair and carrying the faint scent of exhaust and hot asphalt.

"Time to be the hunter. No more crates? No problem. I'll hunt monsters instead." He floored it. The massive black RV roared back onto the highway. This time, he didn't swerve around the zombies. Fifty kilometers later, he spotted a cluster of them—seven or eight shambling figures blocking the road. A savage grin spread across his face. "Hunting time." CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! Dull, heavy impacts echoed across the empty highway, punctuated by the crack of snapping bones. The black steel beast plowed into the horde at 80 km/h—like a bowling ball through a rack of pins.

(Kane) The heavy rumble of my dual-axle pickup truck was a grounding, comforting vibration against the soles of my boots. We hit the state highway just as the clock cleared 1:00 AM, the massive black chassis cutting cleanly through the thick coastal fog that had haunted the campus all weekend. The heavy mist clung to the trees lining the asphalt, but the truck”s high-beams tore through the darkness, carving out a private path just for the two of us.

Jordan roared over the screaming engine. Leaning hard to the left, the motorcycle scraped the wet asphalt. Sparks showered from the metal footpegs. Peeking over his broad shoulder, I saw it. A massive, boxy medical transport ambulance rumbled down the center of the desolate mountain highway just fifty yards ahead. The back windows were entirely blacked out. No emergency lights flashed. It looked like a mobile tomb navigating the dark gorge. "That's it!" I shouted, the wind instantly snatching the words from my mouth.

Martha said. She slammed her foot down on the gas. The truck lunged forward, hitting a massive deep rut in the dirt. My head snapped against the ceiling, and Dominic let out a sharp, choking gasp from the back. The high beams behind us grew larger, the sound of a heavy V8 engine roaring over our own sputtering tailpipe. "They aren't trying to capture us," I said, watching the lead vehicle pull up right against our rear bumper. It was a black SUV with heavy steel brush guards on the front grill. "They're going to pit-road us."

Or I could go to that address and face the unknown. Running hadn’t saved me so far. I started the engine and pulled away without looking back. I drove toward the mountains, toward the place where I was being waited for. The drive to Blackwood Heights took me far from the city and deep into the hills. The road became narrow and dangerous, twisting around the mountains. One mistake and the car would fall into darkness. The trees here were strange. They were bone-white, with no leaves. Their branches stretched out like long fingers. They looked like skeletons reaching up to the sky.

River After leaving my Dad’s I ran into traffic. It was 6 in the evening and it was bumper to bumper. The moment I reached Highway 290, Raven’s sprint acceleration, made me feel zestful. I played ‘When I’m Gone by 3 Doors Down’ while I zoomed past cars. A few bikers rode near me, signaling me to ride along with them, but I wasn’t interested. I had a fast bike, a ninja, and I passed them up with my supercharged engine. They were no match for mine.

Nine-thirty came and went. Nine-forty. Claire checked her phone. “His lawyer just texted. Traffic. Five more minutes.” I stared at the wall. A framed photo of the city skyline hung crooked. I wanted to fix it. Stupid thought. The door opened. Not Damian. His lawyer, middle-aged, expensive suit, fake tan, walked in alone. He looked uncomfortable. “Ms. Voss,” he said. “Mr. Black is stuck in gridlock near Times Square. Construction. He asked if we could wait another ten.”

Everyone bolted down that road at once. … By now, the sky had turned pitch-black. Thick clouds smothered the moon, and the roadside streetlights flickered weakly, casting distorted shadows across the empty highway and filling the air with an unsettling tension. Suddenly, Evan felt something and let a faint, curious smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He came to a stop and spoke without turning around. "Aren't you tired after following me this long?" The atmosphere instantly tensed, turning cold and lethal. The air grew thick, suffocating, crushed beneath a pressure like a mountain bearing down. Four figures in black appeared around Evan, their presence warping the space itself.