I do not own Lorien Legacies or any of the characters.
Accident
Lights pass in a steady rhythm as the truck rumbles down the road. The driver squints as each light passes. The monotony of the drive is suffocating. The steady hum of the engine. The perfectly-timed passing of a light every two seconds. The oddly comforting randomness of the bumps in the road. Hum. Squint. Bump. Squint. Bump. Bump. Squint. Bump. Hum. Squint.
On and on. Time crawls by so he counts lights. One. Two. Three. Four is out. Five. Six. Seven. Eventually he just stops counting. He yawns, blinking the tiredness from his eyes. Bump. Squint. Squint. hum. Snore.
He glances to the side, checking on his ever-helpful sleeping navigator. Her head's against the window, died blonde hair falling in front of her face. The map had long ago slipped onto the floor and she's snoring softly, barely more than breathing. He turns his eyes back to the road. Squint. Squint. Bump.
He blinks again and a sign materializes beside the car. He groans, slowing to a stop on the side of the road, between street lights. He loves small towns. Only there can you be in the middle of the woulds and still be lulled to sleep by street lights.
He opens the door and gets out, closing it again before the dinging can wake his copilot. He steps around in front of the vehicle and stretches, yawning. He looks around, watching the trees for any signs of deer or moose. Nothing. Just evergreen trees and bushes.
He yawns again and climbs back in, taking a long drink of Amp only to yawn again. He sighs, setting his forehead against the steering wheel and staring at the gas gage. A quarter left. He sighs. Should have stopped for gas after all.
"Would you like me to drive?" his copilot asks.
"No," He says. "Just taking a minute. We still got the gas can in the back?"
"Two."
"Good. We might need them."
He sits up, buckling himself back in and pulling back onto the road. He keeps his eyes roaming. It's rare that he drive so long without even seeing any sign of wildlife. He's overdue. Try as he might, the monotony of the ride soon returns. Squint. Bump. Squint.
His copilot tries to stay awake, but before long her head is bobbing. He glances over at her and smiles. She really is trying. Twenty four hours of driving and three hours of sleep and she's still trying to stay awake for him.
"Sleep, he says finally.
She nods and leans on the window again. He turns back to the road just as the streetlights end. He flicks on the high beams. Time begins to drag on again. The engine drones on and on and he feels his eyes struggling to stay open. He blinks rapidly just as he spots movement off to the right. He steps on the brake just as a huge black shape surges out of the trees.
His head aches. He opens his eyes and pain lances through him, starting win his forehead, and then shooting backward into his head, then bouncing back to his temples. He groans, gently rubbing his temples and looking around. He can tell he was upside down, but the headlights were out, leaving everything in darkness.
He reaches up to the roof of the cab, carefully feeling around the broken glass until he finds his flashlight, a small three inch one that costs a few dollars at Walmart. He taps it against his palm and clicks it on, the light sending pain lancing through his head again.
He looks out the shattered driver-side window and sees only darkness. He sighs and sweeps the light beam around the cab. Shattered window, destroyed dash, destroyed passenger door, hood ripped off. No copilot seat or copilot. His eyes widen and he sets the light down, carefully climbing partway out of his seat belt before releasing it, allowing him to land lightly on his back.
He picks the light back up and crawls out through his side window, standing and looking around. There's a trail of broken glass and truck parts along the path they had torn through the grass on the side of the road. There's no sign of the thing they hit, or of the passenger seat.
"Kristen!" he shouts. "Kristen"
He steps away from the truck and his left leg wobbles, a throb of pain shooting through it from his knee. He grits his teeth, limping back to where the truck left the road then walking into the trees. He begins to carefully make his way through the bushes, picking strands of thorn-covered vines out of the way as he looks around for the passenger seat.
After he had gotten a hundred yards or so past the truck, he stops, leaning against a tree. If she had landed further in, she had hit a tree first. There's no other way. He looks further on and raises the flashlight, seeing the light catch on something. His heart catches in his throat and he hurries forward, finding the seat with Kristen still strapped in, though the seatbelt is simply stuck with the top strap trapped under the headrest and the rest between the back and seat.
He kneels, pressing two fingers to her neck and she groans, pushing them away.
"That's bright," she groans, shielding her eyes as he sets the light down and carefully sets her upright.
"Anything broken?" he asks.
"Just a concussion," she groans, pulling the seatbelt off. "What did we hit?"
"Bear maybe," he guesses. "I don't really remember." He sits down beside her and sighs. "Guess we didn't need that gas after all."
She laughs then feels her pocket and groans. "Phone's broke. Yours?"
"Maybe in the truck," he sighs. "I just want to sit here for a minute."
"We have to call for a tow truck," she says.
"Or a cab," he snorted. "What road are we even on?"
"I was asleep," she smirks. "That was your job."
He sighs, standing carefully, then helping her up, and they make their way back to the truck, searching for his phone. After a moment, he finds it and pressed the power button. The screen lights up, green at first, but then blinking off and on to a normal screen, despite the spiderweb of cracks on the entire front. He carefully dials nine-one-one and reports the accident, asking for a tow truck. Then, he sits against the side of the truck, beside Kristen.
"They said to leave my location on and they'd track it," he says.
"They can do that?" she asks.
"No, I'm joking," he says. "I used gGoogle Maps to tell them where we are. It'll be a little over an hour."
"Great. We're going to be late aren't we?"
"We'll be lucky to get there at all," he chuckles. "We might make the reception."
"Good. I'm watching you dance even if it's at the hospital."
"Of course," he sighs stretching, feeling his neck and back starting to stiffen up. "I'm going to sleep."
She nods in agreement, leaning on his shoulder as he leans back against the truck. After a moment, the bushes rustle and he shines the flashlight, illuminating a buck.
"Oh wow. Where's my shotgun when I need it?"
Kristen snorts in amusement just as the deer takes off, dashing away from them into the trees. She sighs, leaning back against the truck just as the bushes rustle again and a pair of eyes begin to reflect the light from the trees.
"Didn't stay gone long did he?" she asks.
"That's got to be a different one," he says. "It's shorter."
She nods, holding her hand out and clicking her tongue. "Come here darling. Come on. Don't be scared."
"Kristen?" he speaks up after a moment. "Why does it look like that deer is really fat?"
She opens her mouth to speak but then closes it again, swallowing. "I don't think that's a deer."
The light stops searching around the truck as it finds the blood. Two deep pools of it with more on the side of the truck and two trails leading away where something was dragged.
"Better call the canine team," the officer says. "And have them bring shotguns. Looks like a wild animal attack, again."
"Great," his partner sighs. "Twelve. Maybe they'll let us actually hunt this thing this time."
"Hopefully," the first nods in agreement. "Make the call."
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