The road curved into a narrow canyon, the black cliffs swallowing the storm. Rook's headlights cut tunnels into jagged rock. Behind him, the Freights spread out, boxing him in.
He pushed the throttle. His veins glowed brighter. His heart roared. The world around him slowed, raindrops hanging in the air like glass beads. The canyon walls blurred into streaks.
A Freight pulled ahead, blocking the road. Its trailer split open, unfolding into a wall of armored plating. A barricade.
Rook shouted, a guttural sound he didn't recognize as his own. He slammed both hands against the wheel. The cab shook. Energy ripped out of him, flooding into the truck.
The rig didn't crash into the barricade. It cut through it.
Steel screamed. Fire bloomed. When the smoke cleared, Rook's semi was still moving, battered but alive. Behind him, wreckage burned, and the Freights howled static into the night.
Rook's vision tunneled. His heart stuttered, his chest seizing. The last thing he heard before darkness claimed him again was the woman's voice on the CB.
"Keep driving, Dalton. The road has claimed you."