Then, like in a science fiction horror movie, the three wolves exploded into black dust balls, only to solidify into three men dressed all in black. This shook him out of his stupor. Jason did not wait to ask for directions, but floored the small car.
The Getz surged forward at a snail’s pace. Jason swerved wildly as the car accelerated, tasting bitter fear in his mouth. His nostrils flared and his breaths were deep and ragged. If he needed to get out and push, he would. He looked back as the three men turned back into wolves. Shards of fear stabbed at his brain and goose bumps ran up and down his back. The car slowly picked up speed and soon he had to start thinking about the roundabout ahead. Jason decided it would be better to get onto the Logon motorway, where he could drive faster and not have to be concerned with corners, roundabouts and traffic lights.
The wolves were biting on his heels and they all jumped at the same time, claws and mouths bared to destroy when they touched down. He had no doubt that they would have no difficulty getting into the car, when it came to that, and that they were not here to take him to dinner. They did not, however, expect him to turn onto the motorway, and so their jump overshot by fifty meters while he sped down the onramp, picking up speed.
Jason pushed the car to its limits, ignoring the engine’s screaming protest as he approached a hundred and ninety heading towards the city. These small cars were not made to drive so fast, but what else could he do? He would buy a new car with his new salary, if he lived long enough. A very, very fast car.
He watched his rear-view mirror, expecting to see six luminous eyes chasing him. But there was nothing. He let the car slow down to normal speed. “What the hell was that? Did I shake them so easily?” He had a feeling that this was not over—not yet. He kept driving, watching for any sign of the monsters, although their eyes would be with him forever. He still did not quite believe what he had seen. Disbelief and fear joined forces to make him doubt his actions, and he felt stupid for turning onto the highway. What was he thinking? Where was he going? He would have to get off at the next exit and then get back on the highway to get home, not to mention that he would have to pay the toll online. “Stupid!” he reprimand himself. “Scared of a few dogs, huh?” But Jason still knew what he had seen, and he couldn’t argue the facts away. He decided to play it safe and stick to his instincts.
Behind him, a car became visible. It was not three monstrous big wolves with red eyes, but just the two bright headlights of a car. He did not know if it was them, but he was not going to take any chances. He decided to race to the nearest police station. A road sign signalled that the gateway would be up in two and a half kilometres.
Jason pulled his mobile out of his pocket and dialled triple zero with shaky fingers. The road was still wet from the rain storm, and road lamps bathed the asphalt in an orange-yellow light. He had floored the accelerator, but the car behind him was approaching very quickly. Soon, it would be directly behind him. Jason switched lanes and watched as the car behind him did the same. The phone rang on the other side.
“Triple zero, state your emergency?” a friendly but official-sounding lady answered the phone.
“I am being chased by a car,” Jason shouted. “It is trying to run me off the road!” He watched with crazed eyes as the car sped up behind him. In the rear-view mirror, he saw six red eyes glowing in the dark interior of the car. He did not dare to tell the woman that three massive wolves that changed into men and back to wolves had attacked him, and were now chasing him in a car. She would put the phone down in his ear, if he spouted off loony nonsense like that.
“Are you in danger, sir?” she asked.
“Yes! Yes, send everyone…! I am turning onto the Gateway motorway heading towards the city in a red Hyundai Getz. Help me, please!” he shouted. The car behind him bumped his rear with such force that the phone fell out of his hands. Jason struggled to keep the car on the road—it swerved from side to side as the car behind him fell back again. Somewhere on the passenger side of the car he heard the woman’s voice, although he couldn’t make out the words.
“They just rammed my car!” he screamed. “I nearly lost control. Please help me. They are trying to kill me!”
He yelled, in the hopes that she could hear him. She must have heard the commotion; she must know that this was an emergency.
A flash of orange-red light flashed past his right arm, grazing his shirt – burning a perfect round hole through the material – he heard the ‘swoosh-thud” sound followed by the back window exploding, and glass flew at the back of his head. He felt a numb pressure where the glass struck and, seconds later, a wet stream flowed down behind his ear and onto his neck. With one hand, Jason kept the car on the road, swerving from side to side; with the other, he found the piece of glass imbedded in the skin atop his head. The windows on his right then exploded inward, sending glass flying. A bullet of light cut through the right-front window pillar, sending sparks and melted metal flying at him. “What the fuck is that?” he shouted. “They are shooting at me!”
A couple of other cars were on the road, heading into the city. A double trailer delivery truck came up on his right. He noticed, in the rear view mirror, a man dressed all in black sitting on the door of the passenger side of the chasing car, he aimed a pistol at him. The adrenaline coursed through his veins, making his brain function in overdrive, a plan presented itself instantaneously. He would cut in front of the truck, and slam on the brakes on the other side, hiding him from the chasing car, once he came to a stop he would turn around and speed away before they would have noticed. It better work! He drove as close to the truck as he dared, and then accelerated madly and swerved in front of it as he saw the man behind prepare to shoot. The truck driver had been watching the episode in his side mirror and overreacted when Jason swerved in front of him, slamming on the breaks, locking the trailer and pulling left as hard as he could to avoid crashing into Jason’s Getz. The trailer smashed into the car that had been chasing Jason, the impact causing the passenger to rise from his seat and strike the roof of the car with his head and neck. A bolt of light zoomed from the car and streaked past Jason’s peripheral vision. The main cabin of the truck, ploughed into the Getz, smashing it into the highway centre dividers. Sparks and pieces of the Getz were flung into the air. The screeching, tearing sound of the metal being torn is permanently burned into his brain. He slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. He jolted as the rail connected with the car, then felt the bottom fall out of his stomach as his car was flung into the air. A road sign stating ‘Brisbane City” twenty kilometres ahead, loomed over the dash, but then the car sank and landed on top of the toppled trailer. Jason was slammed against the wheel as the Getz touched down.
The truck driver watched in horror as the trailer’s wheels caught on the car and lifted it into the air. Then the whole thing came slamming down. Dust, smoke and sparks erupted from the trailer as it scraped against the tar. The sounds of metal dragging, tearing and twisting into pieces roared in his ears. An earth-shattering rumble sounded when the truck crashed over onto its side, sliding down the highway.
Dimly, Jason heard the screeching slow as the truck ground to a halt. He smelled fuel. Blackness interspersed with blurry, incomprehensible images. Muffled cries drifted up from below. The truck driver. Jason felt sorry for swerving in front of him. He had not planned for this....
His head pounded—liquid dripped from his nose. He wondered why the air bags had not deployed. Heat began to radiate from the car’s metal frame. He looked around groggily, pressing the release on the safety belt so he could turn around and look out the back. The safety belt was stuck. Panic started to well up. What if he couldn’t get out? Would he be burnt alive? Black spots appeared in his vision, as he frantically craned his neck, seeking an escape.
A man dressed all in white was standing on the side of the road. His clothes seemed familiar, somehow.... The man saw him looking, tipped his hat and disappeared.
This is the weirdest night I have ever had, Jason thoug
ht as the blackness dragged him under.
William Mathews came charging on the scene. His first impressions are that a truck lost control… a routine vehicle accident. Why were he called in? He noticed a couple of cars had stopped and helped the driver out of the cab. They also pulled a man from his burning car that lay precariously on top of the fallen over trailer, and lay him down on the side of the road. One of the helpers had a fire extinguisher; he used it to quench the fires, sending white smoke billowing in clouds across the road. A woman sat next to the man on the ground, keeping watch and holding a cloth on the top of his head, no doubt a head wound, most of the helpers were assembled around the guy on the ground and the driver of the semi.
He got out of the police car. “Block the road. See if you can keep one lane open. The rest of you secure the scene and someone get the fire brigade out to lift this trailer.” He walked towards the crowd that had formed around the man on the ground. William was a forceful man, a block of a man—easily one meter eighty and weighing at least ninety-five kilograms. He had dark brown hair and green eyes.
The other officers jumped into action. They took red barrier tape and stands from one of their cars and started to build a choke lane to direct oncoming traffic around the accident. The trailer, luckily, only lay across two of the three lanes.
“What happened here?” Mathews asked when he stood before the group of huddled survivors and witnesses.
The driver looked up shaking in fear. He had a few scratches on his cheek and arms, but otherwise he had no injuries. He rubbed his head as he looked up at the sergeant. “I watched as, as the car under the trailer slammed into this poor guy.” He pointed at the Getz. “The guy was swerving from lane to lane and they were shooting at him...it looked like a flare gun.” Okay! Another car is under the trailer, now it is getting interesting. Mathews thought, taking out his notebook. The driver looked around sheepishly as he recanted the wild story. The sergeant took notes as the driver explained, asking a question here and there for him to clarify. The ambulance arrived only minutes later.
A paramedic rushed up with a portable stretcher and suitcase and took over from the woman next to Jason. The sergeant took other statements, names and telephone numbers before allowing the bystanders to leave the scene. The truck driver’s scratches were treated by a second paramedic team as he sat on the back of the ambulance, watching the police work. William walked and hunched down to get a better look at the car under the trailer. No one would have survived this!
The sound of distant sirens perked everyone’s ears. Moments later, a couple of fire trucks appeared around the corner down the road. Ah! The cavalry has arrived. They approached the scene and stopped next to the toppled truck. The drivers and several fire fighters exited the fire trucks, walking to the side of the trailer where the sergeant was on his haunches looking at the wreckage of the Holden that the trailer had squashed.
“Sergeant Mathews?” a short stocky man, with short red hair enquired. He was wearing a fireman’s suit, the name on his hat stated in golden letters ‘Captain Andrew Bateman’.
The sergeant straightened up and shook the fire captain’s extended hand. “Good day, captain. Thank you for coming on such short notice…” William smiled at his own attempted humour “We need to get this trailer lifted, in case there are survivors under there.” He pointed to the Holden.
The captain squatted on his heels and peered under the trailer, smiling wryly. “I don’t have much hope for that, sergeant, but we are often surprised,” he said.
“Thanks, captain.” Sergeant Mathews stepped back, allowing the captain and his men to begin extracting the ruins of the Holden. Mathews walked over to the ambulance to question the driver a bit more, some details don’t make sense.
He sat down next to the truck driver and took his notebook out, paging to the start of today’s story. “Mister Ruben, can you tell me what happened? From the top!” he asked.
The driver rubbed his chin and looked at Mathews with one brow raised “As I said before mate… I saw that Getz” he motioned with his head towards Jason’s car “swerving wildly from side to side, behind me, it’s what caught my attention, you know” he said with a heavy Australian accent. He frowned, his sun browned face filling with creases all over “What is weird mate, is the guys in the car behind that bloke. They wore black clothes…” He got a faraway impression on his face, “He sat on the door out the passenger window… mate the guy had a cowboy hat on…” he looked at William, both brows raised “he did not hold on to it, it did not blow off…” he said, his voice climbing a couple of pitches as he contemplate the mental image.
“So what happened then?” Mathews asked after jotting in his notebook. He closely watched the driver’s body language.
The driver looked at William in surprise “Mate… I don’t think you understand. They were speeding… Oh! The eyes!” he drew in a sharp breath, putting his one hand on his head, looking at the ground. “They were bright red, like a torch… I forgot about that” he trailed off with a blank expression. Interesting, why did he forget something so significant during his first recant of the story William thought, scribbling the bit of detail. Could be that the shock was now wearing off. If this was true, it certainly is a weird phenomenon, but the guy has been through a lot, it’s more likely his mind is playing tricks on him.
“Okay, got that, Can you tell me about the weapon, what type was it?” he prompted the driver.
“Oh! Look mate,” the driver brought his hands up and shrugged his shoulders “I don’t know… it was big, sort of like a cowboy western movie type of gun…” he said, and again trailed off trying to remember more detail “I remember it shot some kind of weird ammo!” his voice became excited “mate it was like nothing you’ve seen before…” he sat upright and rubbed his chin, and moments later looked Mathews in the eyes “it was an orange-red light that travelled at great speed!” he pronounced the last word, dragging the ‘ee” sound. “Like a flare gun…! Yes! Yes… just like a flare gun!” he nearly shouted, almost jumping in excitement. Flare gun, he said that in the initial story, but why would anyone be shooting a flare gun?
William noticed the fire men got the Holden from under the trailer, “We will continue this later, I have your contact detail” he said, putting his notebook away, and walked over to the captain that stood next to the righted trailer, followed by the truck driver and some of the bystanders.
The fire captain watched as his men finished securing the trailer. “There is no chance anyone made it alive! Charlie, you and Frank get the hydraulic cutters, and cut the roof off.” Several minutes later, they lifted the detached roof from the car. A series of gasps wheezed through the air.
There was no one in the car? Mathews blinked, his eye brows pulled as high as they can forming deep creases on his forehead making his eyes flare open and his mouth pouted, he put his one hand behind his head and the other on his hip. “Get this car back to the station for evidence. I want my forensic team scouring it for clues,” he told the closest officer.
“Yes, sir, I’m on it.” The officer turned and walked away.
“The rest of you finish up and help the captain get this mess cleared. Another couple of hours and morning traffic will start to pile up,” he said “Thank you captain!” he nodded at the fire captain and started walking towards his car.
“Sir!” A young, female corporal with brown hair and a beautiful face ran from the Getz. She was fresh out of the academy. “I think you want to read this, sir.” She handed him the yellow envelope—an employment package from Tech-ADS. Mathews took it out and read the name on the paper. He dialled in the blink of an eye.
“Thank you, corporal. Good work,” he said as the phone started to ring in his ear. She went back to the car. “Hello Susan!” he said, turning back towards his car.
“Hi William, how are you?” she answered, sounding jovial.
“I have some bad news for you.”
“What?” She asked, sounding husky in alarm
.
“You employed a Jason Bancroft?” he asked, getting into the car and tossing the envelope onto the passenger seat. With his free hand he typed the name Jason Bancroft into the car’s computer system. The message: “Searching....” blinked on screen as the system retrieved Jason’s details from the central police system.
“Yes, why? What happened?” She was apprehensive immediately.
“He was involved in an accident on the Gateway highway. Apparently someone was shooting at him...he and a double trailer truck did not see eye to eye,” he said, scanning the profile that appeared on the monitor.
“That is terrible! Is he...is he okay?” She shouted her voice cracked, sounding wheezy, as shock dawned on her “I talked to him, just a couple of hours ago.”
“He’s been taken to the Royal Brisbane. He’s okay as far as I could see, but was unconscious. The hospital would know better....” Something on screen made him pause. “What’s this?” he muttered, reading the open docket of Jason’s triple zero call on the car computer system. “Lovey, I will have to call you back,” he said. “I need to go. Call the hospital, he’s probably going to be fine.” His voice had a distant ring to it as he brought up the voice file connected to the call.
“Okay, talk to you later.” She knew better than to prompt him for more information—when William went silent, he wouldn’t tell you anything unless he felt it was pertinent for you to know. She hung up.
Sergeant William Mathews pushed the play button and listened to Jason’s triple zero call; he heard the noises of the chase, the screaming engines and tires. Then he heard the windows explode. He stopped the recording and rewound a tiny bit, then pushed play again. He shifted closer to the speaker to hear better; just before the glass broke there was a weird, electrical noise. He rewound the recording several times and listened carefully to the noise. It sounded like static on a radio.... He shook his head and listened to the full recording. Every time Jason screamed about being shot at, he heard that weird noise.
Becoming (Core Series Book 1) Page 5