The van tore down the empty highway, leaving the town far behind.
Inside, the adrenaline from the hit-and-run faded fast. Brando broke the silence first.
"That felt pretty damn good, but that hooded freak wasn't normal. The impact felt all wrong. Most people don't bounce like that."
Lionel wasn't laughing. He twisted around to stare out the back window, but there was nothing behind them except thickening darkness.
"Luke, you sure we should just leave him there? Maybe we ought to make sure he's finished."
"No need," Luke said flatly, leaning back and closing his eyes. "Brando already said it felt wrong. Odds are the bastard's still breathing."
Carrie curled tighter in the corner, heart still hamring from the sudden violence. She had never imagined solving problems could be this brutally simple.
She caught Luke's eye and he spoke without opening his.
"Got sothing on your mind, Carrie?"
She shook her head at first, old habits kicking in, but the question slipped out anyway.
"Mr. Luke… how do I actually control this power?"
Luke turned in his seat to look at her.
"First step is getting you out of the environnt that's been crushing you for years. Any normal person would've cracked under that kind of pressure a long ti ago."
The words hit hard. mories of her mother's obsession and the constant bullying at school flooded back, making her power flicker.
A half-empty can on the seat beside Lionel suddenly toppled over with a tallic clatter.
Luke reacted instantly.
"Lionel, tell a joke. Right now."
Lionel blinked, completely blank for a second.
"Uh…"
A blinding high beam exploded in the rearview mirror, saving him from having to finish. Brando squinted and glanced back.
A massive eighteen-wheeler was closing in fast from behind, its lights cutting through the night like knives.
"What the hell? This guy in a hurry to get reincarnated or sothing?"
Brando muttered and eased left to let the rig pass.
It didn't. The truck stayed glued to their rear, riding their bumper.
A few minutes later it pulled out and drew even with them.
Brando glanced sideways. The rig towered over their van, its massive tires nearly level with the windows. He looked up at the cab, expecting to see so asshole driver.
The driver's seat was empty. The steering wheel turned on its own in small, steady movents.
Brando rubbed his eyes and looked again.
Still nothing.
He elbowed Luke.
"Hey, Luke. Check this out. Looks like Louisiana's already rolling out driverless trucks."
Luke followed his gaze and his expression darkened imdiately.
The rig was old and rusted, a bull skull mounted on the front grille like a grotesque hood ornant. It looked wrong in every way.
"Get away from it," Luke said sharply.
The words had barely left his mouth when the massive truck suddenly swerved hard left and slamd into them.
The impact was deafening. The van lurched violently sideways, tires screaming across the asphalt.
Everyone inside was thrown around like rag dolls.
"Son of a bitch!" Brando snarled, fighting the wheel with both hands.
He cranked it right and floored the gas, trying to break free, but the truck stayed locked against their side, tal grinding against tal.
Luke's voice cut through the chaos, calm and cold.
"Lionel! Get the gun!"
Lionel steadied himself and reached under the seat, pulling out the AKM.
"Shoot the tires!"
"On it!"
Lionel rolled down the window, leaned out, and emptied the magazine into the truck's front tire. Sparks flew as thirty rounds hamred the rubber.
Carrie clamped her hands over her ears, shrinking into a ball.
The tire didn't deflate. It didn't even slow down. Bullet holes dotted the surface, but the wheel kept spinning like nothing had happened.
Lionel froze with the empty rifle.
Brando saw it in the mirror and his eyes went wide.
"You've gotta be kidding . Is that tire solid steel?"
Luke's voice was low.
"This thing isn't right."
The truck ramd them again, harder, crushing the passenger side of the van. tal scread as the door caved inward, pinning against Brando's leg.
Luke's gaze snapped to Carrie. She was pressed into the farthest corner, hands over her ears, face bone-white, shaking so badly she was sliding off the seat.
"Carrie!" he shouted. "Buckle your seatbelt! Find sothing to hold onto and protect your head!"
The command jolted her. She fumbled with trembling hands, clicked the belt, then wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face.
Luke didn't hesitate.
"Give the machine gun."
Lionel dove into the back, dragging out a heavy canvas bag. He yanked out the M60 and fed the belt.
"Brando, buy ten seconds! Hold it steady!"
"No problem!"
Brando yanked the wheel hard right, then corrected, creating a brief gap between the two vehicles.
"Now!"
Luke took the machine gun. Lionel braced the belt behind him.
He rolled down the already crumpled window, braced his legs against the door fra, and leaned out with the heavy weapon.
"Brando, get us tight!"
"You sure about this?"
Brando saw what Luke was doing and grinned like a lunatic instead of looking scared.
"You asked for it!"
He stomped the gas and deliberately ramd their van sideways into the truck, locking them together.
The impact shook everything, but this ti the van stayed pressed against the rig's flank.
Luke's upper body was already hanging out the window, legs locked against the fra. He swung the M60 up onto the roof, squinted down the sights, and opened fire without hesitation.
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