As the sun beats down on the desert, I find myself stranded in the middle of nowhere. The oppressive heat makes it challenging to think, and I know I must act fast if I want to survive. As I trek through the vast expanse of the desert, the post-morning sun beating down on me, I struggle with the temptation to seek out the nearest settlement, instead of returning to face the menace that has made itself a resident in the back of my truck. Seemingly hours away on foot, a settlement can be hours away if I don’t know which direction to take.
Too risky. The sun is not in a forgiving mood.
Every step felt like an eternity as the desolate landscape stretched out before me, its barrenness amplifying my solitude. Thoughts of civilization became a mirage in my mind, teasing me with the promise of respite and human connection. I yearn for the comfort of shelter, the shade it would provide, and the simple joys of cooling down.
With each laborious stride, my anticipation grows as I spot a settlement hovering on the horizon, a sanctuary amidst the relentless wilderness. But it is too far away, I could never make it in this heat. With no other options, I decide to return to the Cyberstar, the danger residing within it somehow fading against the threat of heat stroke and death. Quashing my primal fear, I resolve to take a chance and attempt to drive to a safer location.
As I approach the truck, I can't help but wonder if the creature is still inside. Too afraid to check, I assume it is as I cautiously creep over and peer at the back of the truck. The doors are closed, and apart from the blood-soaked tailgate and earth underfoot, there is no other sign of anything out of the ordinary.
My hands slowly touch the locking mechanism, and I slide the pin into place. Relieved, I climb into the driver's seat, lock the door and turn on the power. The truck hums to life, and I feel a glimmer of hope that maybe I could make it out alive. All that is required is to drive to the next settlement and then run for my life.
“Would you like me to readjust our waypoint schedule...?” Avocado’s booming voice startled me.
I try using a low voice. “Get us out of here. And turn your voice down.”
The Cyberstar starts to move.
“Avocado, throw up the surveillance video. Last three hours.”
Multiple video feeds appear on the dashscreen.
“Go forward.”
The images scroll until the motorcycle enters the camera’s sight.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Okay, stop. Play.”
As I watch the feed, I cannot help but react the same way as before, with that same surge of adrenaline, my heart racing, replicating my original response to the unfolding horror.
The cameras have captured me inspecting the back of the truck. On the screen, the dusty desert road sprawls out around me, seemingly calm and empty. Then, suddenly, like phantoms materializing from thin air, the Vipers motorcycle gang burst onto the scene. The roaring bike and white utility truck kick up trails of dust as they encircled my vehicle, like a swarm of predatory insects descending on their prey.
It was a well-coordinated ambush, their movements smooth and practised, revealing a sinister efficiency that sent shivers down my spine. Then I remember their fates. My grip on the steering wheel tightens as I realize the gravity of the situation.
“Go to the internal camera.”
The highway pirates, their faces concealed by menacing masks, have managed to breach the cargo area. They move with a sinister purpose, their intentions clear. The tension inside the back of the Cyberstar is palpable.
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts. The three masked men, previously brimming with confidence, react to something that defies explanation. Their body language betrays a detectable fear and panic, their eyes widening behind their masks.
In an instant, chaos erupts.
One of the Vipers lets out a blood-curdling scream as something, unseen, wrenches his head from his shoulders, tumbling to the floor with a sickening thud. Another pirate, in a desperate bid to escape this supernatural nightmare, attempts to flee. But before he can take more than a single stride, he is ensnared by some invisible force a malevolent power that yanks him back violently. He crashes against the wooden crates, his body contorted in pain.
The third pirate suffers a more gruesome fate as if struck down by an otherworldly force. He is torn apart, his limbs severed, by an invisible party with horrifying efficiency.
“Rewind thirty seconds.”
I watch it again, wide-eyed and trembling, blinking in disbelief, straining my eyes, attempting to comprehend the incomprehensible, to see the unseeable. In this surreal and nightmarish moment, the boundaries of reality blur, leaving me to confront an inexplicable and terrifying force beyond my understanding.
My mind races with anxiety. The Cyberstar truck, my potential saviour, awaits to drive me to civilisation, notwithstanding the fact that it harbours some unknown monstrosity in the back. The gnawing uncertainty about this lethal entity hidden there sends a shiver down my spine. But the alternative is equally daunting; walking the scorching desert highway under the relentless sun, a journey that promises exhaustion and dehydration. Each option is fraught with peril, and I find myself weighing the devil I know against the one I don't.
“Avocado,” I say. “Drive.”
The Cyberstar shudders as its wheels start turning. We hit the asphalt and cut across the barren landscape towards the next town, choosing not to go back to the motel, betting everything that my cargo is linked to those murders. My mind races as I listen for any noise from the back. The sun beats down relentlessly outside, and my throat is parched from dehydration, but I don’t dare turn on the air conditioner. I need to hear it, although I have no idea what to do if I do.
I keep driving forward.