Disclaimer: Chicago Fire characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.
Reviews are always welcome
Twisted Metal
Severide checks his fuel gage as the lights from the approaching gas station pierce the crest of the upcoming hill. He debates stopping for a moment. There's plenty left in the tank to make it to the cabin and he's already running late, but he can't seem to shake the truck that's been weaving and riding his bumper for the last few miles. It's getting late and dark with heavy rain clouds hanging in the air which he won't be able to avoid. The tight feeling in his gut is screaming that trouble is chasing the horizon if he can't put some distance between himself and the jag-offs joyriding behind him. The rusted red pickup with a couple of wannabe thug teenagers riding his ass and playing games make the decision for him.
"Good riddance," he mumbles as the pickup peels off the highway, kicking up dirt and rocks as it pulls into the service station. Kelly drives on, aiming to put as much distance between him and the assholes as possible. It's one more annoyance in a day that's been filled with inconveniences.
The tension starts to slip from his shoulders; his grip finally loosening on the steering wheel. The traffic thins out as the rain clouds open up with a steady but light drizzle. Hopefully the weather at the cabin will be a little nicer for the rest of the weekend.
Kelly was already looking forward to relaxing with the boys after a trying week at the firehouse, but after his alarm failing to off today, the sink backing up, the strap on his duffle bag breaking which sent his duffle bag tumbling down three flights of stairs thus breaking his bottle of cologne all over his clothes, having to repack for the weekend and dealing with a flat tire before he even left Chicago - needs this weekend even more. Even if Chief Boden wants to discuss new procedures with Casey, Herrmann and himself on this trip, it's worth it to escape the frustration for a few days.
The rain starts to come down a little harder; the patter and whoosh of the wipers drowning out the songs on the radio. Kelly waits until he passes the green minivan in what will be the last passing lane for miles, before he reaches over, turning the volume dial up. Soft blue light from the digital display reads ten after nine. The guys are probably starting to worry. He should have been there hours ago and who knows if his text message about this afternoon reached anyone.
If he remembers correctly, there should be a rest spot coming up in about fifteen minutes where he can pull over and try to call Casey and let them know he's on his way. There's probably a big ole 'I told you so' coming Severide's way, or at least a gentle 'you should have come with me' snort.
Fate clearly believes Kelly should have accepted Casey's offer for Kelly to ride out to the cabin with him. The thought of leaving at the crack of dawn wasn't overly appealing though, especially considering Kelly wanted to enjoy the night with Stella before she and Brett headed to the airport for a girls weekend in New York the next morning.
"Whoa," breathes Kelly as the mustang hydroplanes a little going around the corner. He easily corrects without much thought. It's nature's gentle reminder to slow down a little.
The rain is coming down in torrents, coving the road in a thin sheet and filling in the well worn grooves in the pavement. He eases his foot off the accelerator. So much for making up time. The other cars on the road have the same idea as they all slow down slightly, forming a decently spaced tight line of five vehicles as they navigate the black winding highway road.
Kelly grinds his teeth as the old worn sign for the rest stop points to the upcoming entrance. He should stop and call. Reception is spotty around here with no guarantee he'll even get a signal until he reaches the lake town. Wandering around an empty rest stop in the pouring rain as he tries and find that sweet spot with enough bars to make an apology phone call about being late, doesn't really have any appeal in this down pour. Why risk being wet and cold when he's less than an hour away now anyways?
No. He'll just keep going and apologise for any worry he's caused with a six pack and his tale of Murphy 's Law woe.
Bright light bounce off his rear-view and side mirrors causing Kelly to squint against the harsh glare. "What the hell!" The minivan's been behind him for the better part of a mile. It seems weird for a family out on a road trip to start causing problems, especially when they've been pretty law abiding so far. There's certainly no reason for them to be flashing their high beams at Kelly's mustang. Tension starts the crawl back through Kelly as he starts searching the side of the road for potential hazards he might be missing that the minivan has noticed.
He glances in the rear-view mirror. "Son of a bitch." It's not the minivan flashing the lights or any other car that's been in the line, it's the damn pickup from earlier. Apparently the road conditions aren't enough to deter them from being assholes or even slow them down. They've caught up to the line of traffic, weaving back and forth behind the last car, flashing their lights and blasting their horn in an effort to try and pass.
Kelly slows down a little more and moves his rear-view mirror slightly to keep some of the glare out of his eyes. If the truck wants to pass on the next straight stretch that's fine by him. Ahead or behind, either place is good as long as the pickup is nowhere near him. He's seen one too many accidents involving teens who thought they were invincible and that shenanigans on the road were just a way to get a good laugh; he's in no mood to see another.
The tension is creeping back in his shoulders and arms; his knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. He checks the rear-view mirror more frequently, watching the pickup jockey for position in line. The truck's made it past the last two vehicles, both of which have since slowed right down, wanting no part of the pickup's reckless driving.
The highway is pretty curvy up ahead and Kelly's not looking forward to having the pickup on his ass around such tight corners until the next potential pass section but there's not enough road to safely pass all three cars in line before the first in a series of sharp corners rapidly approaches.
Except maybe Kelly's wrong, because the pickup swerves into the oncoming lane, tires screeching as it peels out to pass on a double solid yellow line. The engine roars louder as it eats up the pavement, passing the SUV and then the green minivan and gaining on Kelly's mustang as the corner swiftly approaches.
Kelly rolls his eyes. He'd love nothing more than to open his mustang up and leave young and dumb in the dust. He can't claim youthful stupidity anymore, so he eases on the break instead. The pickup catches up to him, weaving in the oncoming lane as the occupants cheer and flip Kelly off.
The pickup accelerates even more inching past Kelly until it jerks sharply in front of him. He stomps on the breaks, the mustang jolting back as the pickup starts to veer into the lane mere inches from the front bumper of Kelly's car to slip into the corner on the right side of the road.
It's not soon enough though, as ominous headlights shatter the darkness of the corner, crawling around from the other side to herald the impending arrival of the transport truck racing through the night. The truck swerves trying to give the unexpected pickup more room to cross back into the correct lane the same moment Kelly really slams down on the breaks.
The young driver of the pickup panics; overcompensating and losing traction in the rain. The pickup slides and fishtails. The silence of the forest surrounding the highway filling with the hiss and screeching of breaks and tires as they try to slow the hurtling bullets of metal speeding towards one another. The cab of the transport truck veers hard to the right but the trailer twists and clips the pickup hard sending it into a spin.
There's not enough space to maneuver as the pickup slams into the trailer. Kelly holds his breath as he digs his foot in harder against the break. There's an explosion of glass and the defining sound of crushing metal as the world whirls by in one big blur. Kelly's head smashes against the side window as the mustang gets tangled in the metal tornado of pickup and transport truck.
His vision fills with the soft yellow lights of the minivan and the panicked face of its driver before the world violently goes black.
