Coast To Coast: The Darkest Hour

Chapter 1: The Crash Site

M I D N I G H T

1: The Crash Site

Red and blue lights flashed below a bridge in the December night. Near a river and close to the underneath of the bridge was a pile up of cars. The night was cold, with sheets of ice on the road.  The pile up was caused by a street racer car going out of control on the slippery ice, and crashing into the side guard of the road.

All the cars had piled up onto it when the drivers, speeding, careless of the slippery roads, and unheeding the warning of the lights of the car crash, tried to speed around the overturned car. In most of the cases, they ended up crashing into the already wrecked vehicles.  The crash site had become large by the time four o’clock in the morning came around.

Ambulances and police cars covered the space near the pile up.  The chief of the police stood nearby with a companion, a person known for his kindness to the street racers, and a desire for them to be treated fairly.

The chief looked over at the man and said, “Well, Ben, it looks like this morning we have an early start. Our cruisers have been chasing that car for two days now.” The chief indicated the street racer’s car. The car was upside down, the windshield was smashed.

“I don’t think our work is over chief. There isn’t anyone in that car.”

The chief looked at the car. “I doubt the street racer could have gone far,” and his voice trailed off.

A figure leaned against the side of the bridge, watching the ant like men scurry around the pile up. He shivered as the wind blew a gust threw his quite worn and tore up jacket. The moon’s light faded, as the black clouds covered it. Rain started to fall, but the figure didn’t seem to care. The figure watched a couple of the ambulances drive away, sirens screaming. He turned and walked to the river side of the bridge, sinking down, setting the side of his face against the wall. He decided he would rest a few minutes, and then he would get away from the scene, before the cops got on his trail.

The figure awoke with a start as a light shown on him. He had drifted off to sleep instead of just resting for a couple minutes. He soon saw the source of the light. A police officer was holding a flashlight on him. He wasn’t sure what to do. There was nowhere to run. No escape, other than over the side wall of the bridge. The ice cold water was not too inviting. He gripped the top of the wall with his gloved hand. His gloves had seen many better days, but he hadn’t got any new ones, since the police had been too close on his track to loiter.

The police officer approached, slowly, not sure what would happen, and the cop could see that this person was a little skittish.  ‘Is this the street racer that disappeared from the crash site?’ the cop wondered.

The cop had to watch the figure, and the ground since the ground was quite slippery.    The figure moved, and the cop was kicked off his feet by a jolting blow to his leg by the figure’s foot.  The figure tried running, but the cop got up, pulling his pistol.

“Stay right where you are, or I’ll shoot!” the officer said, having no wish to shoot this guy, but he’d fire a warning shot if he had to.

The figure stopped, and just stood there against the wall, not wanting a bullet through him, yet not wanting to take the leap off the bridge.

An hour past, without anyone moving, then patrol cars arrived, blocking both ends of the bridges. Cops started moving in. The street racer retreated to on top of the wall.  He glanced over the side, just as a spot light shone from a helicopter and was on him.

Carl, the cop who was holding a pistol, aimed and ready to put a bullet into the figure, was glad the spot light was there, it was hard to keep track of a person dressed in black on a dark night.