A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety Novels & Stories

Mason “Holy fuck,” I murmured as Rick drove us beneath the overpass and to the clearing where all the drivers and members of the underground scene were gathered. There was a shit ton of people. At least two hundred and fifty. This was way bigger than what I’d expected, and a bit of anxiety started chewing at my insides. Rick slowed to a crawl as we drove through the swarm of bodies. People got out of our way for the most part, and I was glad the Fastback had blacked-out windows. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be recognized yet.

" I knew that her time was short, but I had to say these words to her. Watching her sanity crumble bit by bit as I spoke filled me with an inexplicable sense of release. She clutched the spot where she had been shot, blood continuously spilling from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were filled with pleading as she said, "Zachary, say you love… love me." She seemed to believe that hearing me say I loved her would make her death worthwhile. I met her gaze and said slowly, "You're disgusting." When Lilian heard my words, her eyes glazed over in agony, and her face twisted. She raised the gun in her arms to her temple and pulled the trigger. Her final words echoed through the valley. "I love yo

Nick~ Our black SUVs pull out of the hospital parking lot. More media vans waited on the street, and they pulled in behind us as we passed. Now, a caravan of five heads east through downtown LA. We take the US 395 exit and catch another gear. Harley has remained quiet with her head resting on my shoulder. Once her hand returned to its human form, I laced our fingers together. It's hotter than the Fourth of July on a tin roof in the back of the SUV.

Ghost had three monitors running at once, each one flickering with grainy traffic‑cam footage. The room was dead silent except for the rapid clicking of his keyboard and the pounding of my heart. Then he froze. “There,” Ghost said, pointing at the screen. “Highway 229. Southbound camera picked them up.” I stepped closer. A black sedan. Tinted windows. Moving fast. My pulse kicked hard. “Where does 229 lead?” Wolf asked behind me.

"Here's ten grand for necessities, should be enough till I get back and after too." "Sure." Black slipped all hundred of the hundred dollar bills into his pocket. "Thanks man, I'll catch the next bus." "Okay man. Keep in touch or I will." He dared and they shared a handshake before he was off on his way. He'd made it to the outskirts of the countryside when he saw his car. His baby, the bright red Lamborghini. He got in and kicked it. In no time he was racing down the highway. "He'd been driving for a few hours and it was getting dark out. He was speeding down a lonely highway when he saw a young woman, frantically waving down his car to slow down. He was the only car on the road.

He scrambled into the car without a word. We peeled out of the loading dock just as the concrete ceiling behind us collapsed, burying Black-Site 4 in a cloud of dust and secrets. ON THE HIGHWAY The rain had stopped, leaving the asphalt slick and black under the streetlights. We were doing ninety in a forty zone, heading toward the industrial district. "You knew," my father said from the back seat. He was staring at the back of Dax’s head. "You knew the exhaust port was unshielded. That design flaw... it wasn't in the blueprints. It only manifests after fifty hours of operation."

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 The heavy rumble of the diesel engines echoing off the limestone cliffs wasn't just a threat to the local grid; it was a ghost from the life Maya had systematically dismantled. Standing at the edge of the stone pier, Maya watched the two armored black SUVs navigate the sharp, crumbling turns of the coastal highway. The vehicles were sleek, reinforced with high-grade carbon plating, and bore no corporate logos but they didn't need to. Maya recognized the specific, customized rumble of those modified engines instantly. They belonged to the Blackwood security detail.

My heart did a flip. "Hey, Toby," he said, straightening up. "Perfect timing. Are you done?" I nodded. "Yeah. What are you doing here?" He patted the back seat of his bike. "I want to show you something." I frowned. "What?" "It’s Friday. There’s a motorcycle race just outside the city." I stared at him. "A race?" "Yeah." "I have books to read," I said. "And chores." "You work every day." "I don't mind."

​"How? You said this car was invisible!" ​"Silas isn't tracking the car," Julian said, flooring the accelerator. The engine roared, a mechanical scream that echoed through the foggy highway. "He’s tracking the 'Void.' The memory wipe created a hole in the city's psychic field. We’re a black hole moving at a hundred miles per hour." ​A massive, armored transport slammed into our rear bumper. The impact sent us fishtailing across the wet asphalt. Glass shattered. The smell of burning rubber filled the air.

Up ahead, blacked-out million-dollar trucks glided out of a narrow, tree-flanked driveway that cut across the road. One by one, the machines pulled forward, and then what looks like that last car slid out. It had no license plate in the front, just a slab of polished black steel that looked like it had eaten smaller cars for breakfast. The black was so pure it swallowed the streetlamp’s red and white glow, headlights, neon streaks, all of it hovering on its surface like reflections trapped in obsidian glass. “Jesus,” Niya gushed, but her voice nearly drowned by the sudden quiet that followed the car's exit.