by Victor Allen
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There was no evident trigger to what happened next. Jack approached the downgrade towards the hairpin turn, easing off the accelerator. He expected to feel the slight deceleration as torque unwound from the wheels, but instead the accelerator pedal inexplicably sank precipitously beneath his foot as if the cruise control were compensating for an uphill climb. The pitch of the engine roared higher and the heavily loaded vehicle suddenly raced down the incline. It took a precious second for Jack’s brain to process this unexpected turn of events and by the time he reacted and stepped on the brake, the paltry wooden guardrail of the turn loomed in his windshield.
The roar of the engine was a scream as the accelerator was staked pedal to the metal. The speedometer jumped quickly from forty-five to seventy miles per hour. Jack stomped hard on the brakes and felt the spongy pedal sink all the way to the floor. There were no tell-tale pulsations of the ABS brake system engaging and the truck’s engine howled in even greater agony as it pulled, still at full throttle, against the poor friction of brakes laboring uselessly against unfettered tons of rotational force.
The brakes weren’t completely nullified, but the ABS system had been disabled and power assist was gone. Discs and rotors spewed sparks and flashed a fiery red as the wheels continued to scream against the friction pads. The smells of glowing metal and unburnt gasoline blended in Jack’s nostrils as he, too late, reached to ratchet up the emergency brake. The already locked brakes failed to respond. He twisted the steering wheel into the turn but the vehicle continued to power forward, shredding off chunks of rubber from the front tires in a smoking squeal. A thousand gallons of diesel fuel racked from side to side in the tank, making the runaway truck rock and bounce on its leaf springs, a ten-ton low-rider.
The truck smashed grill-on through the wooden guard rails like a football team bursting through a paper banner, showering shattered wood like fireworks through the air. The seat belts of the supplemental restraint system abruptly constricted and pinned Jack to the seat as the air bag went off with an explosive “Poof!”, dazing Jack and breaking his nose with a crunch.
The truck was briefly airborne as the stumbling giant rumbled over the embankment, its undercarriage exposed, its drive shaft still spinning. It plummeted down and crashed into the steep embankment before beginning to tumble and ricochet down the rocky faces before splashing into the river below with a hissing crash.
The overloaded vehicle sank like a stone, red diesel fuel from ruptured tanks spreading out on the surface in an oil slick. Water gushed into the cabin of the vehicle. Still dazed and uncomprehending, a groggy Jack struggled desperately to disentangle himself from the belts, but the ratcheting mechanisms had lashed him so tightly to the seat he could barely move. The belts constricted his breathing and he opened his mouth, gasping. A river of oily water spilled in. He sputtered and gagged as water filled his lungs. His hair swirled around his head as the passenger compartment flooded and his futile struggles diminished. The next minute saw Jack’s lungs completely saturated and he sat motionless as a stone Poseidon, still in the driver’s seat, his eyes open, his hair waving like seaweed around his face. He might have found some solace in Orwell’s words from “1984”, “to die hating them, that was freedom,” but the bitter irony that had left the stinging taste of oil and water in his choking throat was that Jack Benny Hicks died not even knowing why.