Interior shot: vehicle interior; well-appointed Revla VX5630. The car's interior is outfitted with leather seating. Out of the rear glass, a couple of figures walk past, walking around the exterior of the vehicle. The driver side rear door opens, and a figure works a toddler's car seat into the rear bench. Judging from the blue fur of the figure's sleeveless arms, we assume that it's Krystal. It's confirmed when she sticks her head into the vehicle as she works the booster seat to the middle of the bench, climbing further in to connect the ISOFIX anchors. Another figure stands outside the vehicle on the left side. Obscured by the angle of the camera, tint on the side windows, and the vehicle's B and C pillars, there is another figure standing outside the vehicle passenger side, waiting, with a small child on his hips. We can only assume that to be Fox holding a young Marcus. Once Krystal completes her task of securing the child seat, Fox opens the rear passenger door, climbing in with Marcus to place him in the child seat. Both parents assist each other as they secure their young son into the apparatus. Once that task is complete, the parents climb out of the car. Fox closes the door; Krystal doesn't, not intending to leave her child locked in a hot car, not even for a few minutes. Both parents are seen walking towards the rear of the vehicle. While Marcus curiously looks around the interior of the vehicle, the power liftgate opens as his parents begin loading the luggage compartment with miscellaneous items; a red cooler, beach umbrella, a couple of wicker bags, a large beach ball…
Exterior feed: A black Willard Terrene moves past surreptitiously, noting the neighborhood's strict posted speed limit of twenty miles per hour. It's an upper-middle class housing tract. Relatively large (especially in comparison to the lots they rest on) one- and two-story homes. Earth-tone stucco, terracotta roofing tiles, three car garages, decorative palm trees galore. While the neighborhood is beautiful, the homes do lack individuality and character, almost looking like The Stepwood Wives movie set. The garage door of the neighbor across the street rises just as a silver Miuccia-Bauer XLB200t eases into the driveway and into the garage. The vehicle stops in the garage stall, glowing brake lights disappear behind the lowering garage door.
On the interior camera feed: Krystal and Fox have finished loading the vehicle. Krystal reaches up to the lower edge of the tail gate, pressing a button to automatically lower it as she and her spouse walk around to the front of the vehicle to get in. Krystal closes the rear passenger door; the front doors open. Fox (we finally get a good view of him this time) in a floral shirt, and black swim trunks which we saw as he climbed into the front seat. Krystal gets behind the wheel, wearing a yellow monokini layered beneath a pair of jeans, and a burlap bag monogrammed with the letter "K" in a serif font. She sets it below the dash out of view and leans down; we can only assume she is rummaging through the bag.
"Got any water in there?" Fox asks.
Without looking, Krystal produces a cold bottle of ViveAqua, replete with a coat of fresh condensation, handing it to Fox while she also pulls out the keys to the car. Fox cracks the seal of the water bottle, twisting off the cap, while Krystal inserts the key fob into the slot on the dashboard and presses the ignition button. The low, throaty whine in the audio's background, a telltale sign that the vehicle's turbo-charged straight-six engine came to life.
Fox takes a couple swigs from the water bottle, observing his wife as she stared down at the dash as she pressed buttons on the steering wheel spoke to navigate the trip computer.
"Fox, I thought you got the oil changed?"
Looking at his wife inquisitively, Fox answered: "I did."
"The car says it's still overdue, though."
"Oh… Well he didn't know how to reset the oil life monitor."
"Who's 'he'?"
"Slippy."
"Well, why didn't you just take it to the dealership?"
Fox sounded incredulous. "You kidding? One hundred and fifty credits to empty out oil and put new stuff in? Highway robbery."
"Okay, well--" Krystal was about to argue, suddenly deciding against it. It's not that big of a deal. "...Okay."
Reaching to the center console, she grabbed the shift lever to get the car in gear. Looking up, she checked left and right for traffic, letting a red Velox Culpeo cruise past before cranking the wheel to the left and easing out onto the street.
The dashboard chimed obnoxiously, urging the passengers to put on their seatbelts. Krystal reached over her shoulder, pulling the belt over her chest and lap and clicking it as she pulled up to the first stop sign. Fox followed suit and took his phone out of his pocket to browse the internet. Krystal flicked the lever to the left of the steering wheel, initiating the distinctive rhythmic ticking of the turn indicator. On the exterior feed, a minivan passes, and the McCloud family wagon makes a left onto the neighborhood's main thoroughfare.
Their vehicle pulls up to a gate, slowing down upon approach to activate the gate's sensor. The gate slowly swings open, Krystal allows the car to inch forward as the gate swings open wider and accelerates when it is safe enough. Up ahead, there is a 6-lane divided roadway. The car pulls up to the stop sign, with Krystal checking traffic, allowing a wolfpack of vehicles to pass. After that, she pulls across the lanes to the break in the median, stopping to check traffic in the other direction, and pulls onto the main drag. The engine's throaty whine could be heard in the background as Krystal gives more gas than necessary. The RPMs drop as the powertrain upshifts, settling as the car reaches its cruising speed.
Fox doesn't talk much, still focused on his phone, and neither does Krystal as she focuses on the road. The blue vixen reaches down, presumably into that burlap bag, and produces a sippy cup. She uncaps it, momentarily using her knees to steer, and hands it to her son in the back.
The forward feed depicts their vehicle coming up alongside a tractor-trailer, slowly inching past it, before Krystal applies the brakes upon approaching a red traffic light. The light turns green almost immediately as she applies the brakes, and she gasses it again to reach cruising speed once more.
Along the thoroughfare, there are proliferations of strip malls and developing housing tracts, intermixed between numerous greenspace parks and conservation land, as well as water features - artificial and natural alike. The area is The Gemini Springs Township, an upper-middle class Corneria City suburb.
Up ahead, there is an overpass, with cars collecting at a traffic signal. Krystal applies the brakes, coasting the car to an easy, unassuming stop behind the traffic queue. Having just forgotten to do something, Krystal checks the driver side wing mirror, just in time to see a black SUV pull into the left turn lane next to her. Peering out the window, she waves, honks the horn to get the driver's attention.
Can I get over? She mouths, pointing to the space ahead of the SUV. Krystal receives an affirmative answer from the other driver, responding with a thumbs up, and engages the turn signal in preparation to merge when the light changes. The light changes, and the SUV allows Krystal to cut into the lane. She accelerates through the intersection, giving it more gas to beat the second light. Krystal cranks the wheel to the left as she gasses it, causing the tires to squeal; Fox grabs the 'oh shit' bar. The dashboard warning tone chimes, telling the driver that the anti-skid programs were just activated due to Krystal's driving stunt.
"Damn, woman!" Fox comments.
Krystal doesn't respond, and instead barrels down the onramp. She slows down to pass through an electronic toll gate before picking up speed again. Coming up behind slowpokes on the ramp, Krystal cuts across the diagonal lines and opens it up full throttle, sailing past the grey minivan and red hatchback.
Not looking up from his phone, Fox asks, "Krystal, are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah, why do you ask?"
"Well, you're driving like a psycho."
Krystal shrugs.
"...Do you want me to drive?"
"No, I got it."
Krystal checks the wing mirror before engaging the turn signal and merging into the innermost lane - the HOV lane. The front camera feed depicts their vehicle sailing past a 'SPEED LIMIT 70' sign, with the electronic 'YOUR SPEED' radar read-out below the static sign switching from 90 to 91. On the right, their vehicle zoomed past slower-moving traffic like they were standing still. The engine was whining unusually loud, even at that velocity.
The interior feed caught Fox still on his phone, Marcus starting to fall asleep, and Krystal glancing between the road ahead and the instrument panel to see why the revs were so high. Leaning in towards the dash to look closer, she realized something and reached for the shift lever, shifting it into the correct setting. The revs dropped to economy speed.
"...Hey, Krystal?" Fox put down his phone, wanting to ask his wife something.
"Yes dear?" Krystal responded, as she signaled to get into the lane to the right, passing a slow-moving crew cab pickup, before moving back into the high occupancy vehicle lane.
Fox turned to his wife and asked: "So, like… If we are on a train that is traveling faster than the speed of light, and I shot a projectile in the direction of the train's travel, would the bullet travel faster than light? Would it be behind us? Or would it relatively stay still?"
Krystal glanced at her husband cursorily. "Is that an oblique way of telling me I'm driving too fast?"
Fox leaned over in his seat to get a good view of the instrument panel. Sitting back in his seat, he said, "Well, not originally, but it can be? I was just asking to make conversation though."
"Oh, well…" Krystal pondered for a moment. "...In a word: no. Space-time is weird, in that, despite what we think and how we view it, it doesn't work as a constant. It changes the faster we go."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, uh… View it as such: first and foremost, let's not depict the train as traveling as fast as the speed of light. Since the train and everything aboard it has mass, it can't travel as fast as light, because light technically has no mass. The best the train can do is ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine-however many nines percent the speed of light. That being said, suppose you fire the gun inside the train. The projectile would be traveling at least twenty-six hundred feet per second, or at least eighteen hundred miles per hour. You would think that it would travel at light speed, PLUS twenty-six hundred feet per second, right? Well that is actually incorrect. Space-time changes as you increase speed, like I said. It's counter-intuitive to think what I'm about to say, but it actually slows down and more or less matches the speed of light, though to the occupants on the train, the bullet is traveling as fast as any bullet would go."
The whole time Krystal explained this, Fox's face screwed with confused curiosity. "How do you know all that?"
Not taking her eyes off the road, Krystal said, "I took an elective aside from my curriculum. Theoretical physics."
"Oh…"
"So, um…" Krystal decided that it was her turn to make idle talk. "When was the last you heard from Falco?"
"I called him a few days ago to check up on him. He's been called to fill the lineup out, since Phil Barnum blew his back out."
"Oh, jeez. Is Barnum going to be okay? I like him."
"Yeah, he's just taking the rest of the season off."
"Oh. Okay…" There was a beat of silence for a moment. "You know, I'm really proud and happy for him."
"Yeah… Me too…--Oh!" Fox perked up. "You wanna go see The Last Days of Katina II this Friday?"
Krystal let out a scoff. "Wasn't this one directed by Michael Grey? I find his movies a little… I dunno, over the top and shallow?"
Fox rolled his eyes, chuckling a little. "So does every piece of entertainment media have to be worthy of Shakespheare? The guy directs mindless entertainment for teenage boys. What a crime, right?"
"Oh, shut up."
"But, no, for real. Let's go see it. It'll be fun."
"How about we go see My Big Fat Zonessian Wedding?"
"Eugh. A rom-com." Then, Fox joked, "If I wanted to see people kissing, I'd just take you out to dinner."
In kind, Krystal retorted in the same tone: "Eugh. An action film. If I wanted to see people dogfighting against hostile aliens, I'd just come out of retirement."
"Huh. You got jokes."
"Speaking of dinner dates… We should try that new restaurant… B.F. Wang's, I think it's called?"
Preparing to respond, Fox had picked up his phone again to do an internet search of the aforementioned restaurant, still chatting with his wife, while Krystal looked down momentarily to get something out of the bag in her footwell. While they talked, the front feed depicted the clear roadway, their car still in the HOV lane as the vehicle passed beneath an electronic open-road toll gate.
They didn't see it coming.
There was a loud noise, like something exploding. The interior feed depicted Fox whipping his head to the right to see what the hell that noise was, just as what appeared to be another vehicle sailing towards them. From the angle of the interior camera, the rear of a pick-up truck clips the passenger side, causing the side curtain to drop. The front video feed saw the car vaulting to the right, towards the outer shoulder; Krystal tensed up, though remaining calm, she's been in worse situations, and wrestles the wheel to the left.
"Shit..." Fox swore, grabbing onto that 'oh shit' handle again. Krystal over-corrects. The sounds of tires screeching were blinding.
The front of the car goes flying towards the center concrete divide, and with an ear-splitting BANG, spiderweb cracks litter the front glass. The hood crumpled like a piece of tin foil, obscuring the full view of the front camera. In this same fleeting instant, the interior feed saw the occupants lurch forward, only to be snatched back by the tightening seat belts, just as the supplemental inflatable restraints burst into existence from the dashboard and steering wheel.
The front feed saw sky for a few seconds, while loose objects and debris in the interior of the car floated through the air like zero gravity. Then, everything was not secured in the car's interior was slammed to the right as gravity once again took over. The passenger side glass splintered as the side of the car hit the pavement. Twisting metal. Plastic crumbling. The sky disappeared as the world literally turned upside down, trading itself for darkness and asphalt. The moonroof exploded as the top of the passenger cabin buckled, followed by metal-to-tarmac sounds of scraping.
The vehicle slid on its roof for another one hundred feet.
How long had they been on this potentially lethal roller coaster? It may have only been about ten seconds, but when adrenaline is pumping, those ten seconds could last an eternity. All they knew were the sounds and feelings: loud, fast and intense. They'd been shot at, been in Arwing crash-landings, been rocked by explosions. Nothing compared to this. They realized why when they heard their son, scared, traumatized, wailing for comfort and security as he sat strung upside down in his car seat.
Hands pressed against the hot pavement (since the sunroof is gone now), Fox held himself against the pull of gravity, and the fact that the tightened seatbelt was squeezing the life out of him. Instead of espresso brown leather, the interior of the car was cornstarch-and-polyester white. There was so much white, that the couple thought they'd died and crossed over for a moment.
"Are you okay?" Fox said to his wife, trying to suck air into his burning chest.
"...I can't breathe," Krystal choked, moisture leaking from her eyes, despite her frozen expression.
"Alright, lemme get you outta here." Using one hand to hold himself up, Fox used the other to fumble with the seat belt buckle.
"Just--just get Marcus out of here for right now, okay?" Krystal said urgently.
"Okay."
The front feed stared through cracked glass at darkness and pavement.
Fox managed to free himself, landing on his head despite his efforts to keep from doing so. Shimmying on his back to his son, he fought with the fasteners of the car seat. He'd done this numerous times as a father, fastening and unfastening his son's booster seat, but a little disoriented by what just happened and the angle by which he was currently carrying out the task. He managed to get his son free, allowing him to drop (upward, as per the orientation of the camera) onto his chest. Marcus immediately stopped crying; he just wanted his daddy.
Krystal hung upside down, staring forward, a little too shaken to move at the moment, while Fox shimmied against the roof, on his back, out of the rear passenger window.
There were a few moments of quiet, aside from Krystal's labored breathing. Then running footsteps approaching, crunching on glass beads as they neared the exterior of the wreck.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" a male voice asked, heard from the exterior.
"We're fine, just a little shaken is all," came Fox's decreasingly nervous voice.
Someone crouched down next to the opening that used to be the driver side window. A canid female's head came into view. Krystal did not turn to look.
"Ma'am, are you okay? Are you in pain?"
"No. I'm fine." Krystal almost sounded curt.
"Are you able to get out? Do you need help?"
Krystal says nothing, and the good samaritan takes the liberty to inch her way into the car through the window. Krystal decides that she can't hang out in a twisted wreck all morning and decides to assist the woman to help her get herself out. The woman tugs on the seatbelt near the buckle, and Krystal holds herself up, pressing her hands against the roof of the car so she can breathe.
"Okay, hold on, I'll be right back," the woman says before inching back out the window the way she came in.
With one hand, on the roof and the other molesting the belt buckle, she manages to unbuckle it after a few moments. She spilled onto the roof, though with a little more grace than her husband did when he freed himself. Footsteps approached, heralding the good samaritan woman's return.
"Gimme your hand, I'll pull you out," said the woman's voice outside the car.
As hands reached into the car, Krystal reaching and grabbing onto them to allow them to pull her out of the wreck.
Traffic Camera A122, facing oncoming traffic; Mile 78, West-bound on the CR-144, a.k.a. The Cornelius J. Pepper Turnpike. 10:52 a.m. A wolfpack of cars pass beneath the traffic camera, no notable events at current. Then a silver pickup truck comes into the shot, traveling at approximately 110 kilometers per hour in the right-most lane. The rear left tire explodes just as a blue Revla VX comes into the shot, traveling at about 140 kph in the high occupancy lane. The truck loses control, spinning out of control, turning all the way around, ending up traveling backwards towards the Revla wagon, presumably clipping the rear of the car just as both vehicles disappeared out of the shot.
Traffic Camera B122, facing the opposite direction: The blue Revla vaulting sideways, rear bumper hanging off at the point of presumed impact while the pick-up slams tail-end into the concrete divider. The driver of the Revla, careering towards the outer shoulder, over-corrects, swinging the car in the other direction, throwing it out of control. The front slams into the concrete divide, the impact launching the vehicle into the air several feet. The vehicle lands on its side and rolls onto its roof, sliding for approximately 35 meters before coming to a stop, blocking the HOV lane and the one adjacent to it and facing the wrong way. After about fifteen seconds, motorists who witnessed the accident stop to provide assistance. The occupants of both vehicles walked away with minimal injury.
Fox examined the USB thumb drive, sitting in his comfy office chair in his study. After a moment of delegation, he decided to insert it into the USB port on the side of his laptop and open the files on it.
The screen prompted him to open the contents of the thumb drive, and he began browsing the contents. Twenty photos, three videos. Opening the folder marked "photos", Fox scaled the wall of thumbnails that depicted his family's deceased family crossover wagon. He opened a slideshow to examine the finer details of each photo. Most of them were taken by bystanders, good samaritans (such as the woman who helped Krystal out of the wreck), and police photos. The first one he looked at was of their overturned wreck that used to be a blue Revla wagon. Fluids leaked out of the smashed front as if it were bleeding from a bad head injury, smoke and steam rose from the smashed radiator. The front bumper, as well as most of the front fascia was missing, having been smashed in or otherwise scattered across the highway after colliding with the center divider. The next several photos didn't show anything that much different, until he got to the one where the tow truck pulled the car off of its roof, landing it upright. The car was more or less flattened from landing upside down, and the windshield was smashed, riddled with spiderwebs and snowflakes. The paint on the hood and roof was stripped from the friction of having slid down the roadway, and the moonroof was gone, leaving a rectangular hole in the top.
"I can't believe we were in that," Krystal breathed.
Fox turned around to his wife, who had their son hanging on their hip as she stared at his laptop screen. He didn't hear her come in. Turning back to his computer, he continued browsing through the media on the thumb drive. Clicking on the "Videos" folder, he opened their interior dashcam video. He watched the first few minutes of them preparing for their day: putting Marcus in the car seat, loading the back, climbing in and pulling off. He fast forwarded past the boring parts, skipping to "the moment of impact" so to speak. He heard sounds that he previously didn't remember.
The sound of the truck hitting the rear quarter panel of their car sounded like someone dropping a refrigerator off the third story of a building, and the sounds of the tires squealing was even louder on the video. The part where Fox swore right before their car hit the guard rail, he actually yelled, causing his voice to crack. He could hear metal crunching, plastic crackling, glass splintering in the millisecond-long ear-spitting POP of the collision with the concrete barrier. And the sounds of the car tumbling around was like bricks in a tumble-drying laundry appliance. Watching his and his family's bodies lurch forward to be snatched back by the physical restraints, the same as those educational videos of crash tests, and the safety devices rupturing through the dashboard and steering wheel covers. The video was of high quality and high resolution, so he could zoom in and slow down time and watch every movement and every moment. Such as how a rectangle slowly peeled open on the dashboard, releasing the airbag as it slowly took shape to cushion him from the impact.
Sighing, Fox closed the laptop, having had enough for the day. He then turned around to face his wife and child. Smiling.
Krystal, smiling back, asked: "What are you so happy about?"
He answered her question with a question: "What's not to be happy about?"
And he was right. He had a beautiful wife and son, lived in a lovely home in a nice area, and they have everything they ever wanted and needed. They didn't make it to the beach last week, but it could have been a lot worse. Besides, the beach isn't going anywhere anytime soon.