MIDNIGHT CARNAGE

Prologue

The day had been relentless under the clouded moon, the asphalt mirroring the sky's relentless shine. Johnathan Grady wiped his brow with the back of his hand, the smell of grease and fried food lingering on his fingertips from his hurried stop at the roadside diner. He swung open the heavy door of the burger joint, the bell above jingling a tired welcome as he emerged, brown paper bag in hand.

Johnathan, or simply John to those who knew him, was a man who wore years of labor etched into his sun-kissed face. His thin beard was flecked with gray, a testament to the long hours spent on the road hauling loads of gravel across the country. Today, however, the weariness was not just from the road; a persistent cough had taken up residence in his chest, an unwelcome passenger on his journey.

He hoisted himself up into the cab of his semi-truck, the worn leather seat groaning in protest as he settled in. The engine rumbled to life with a familiar growl, the weight of the gravel shifting behind him as he merged onto the country highway. The fields of wheat stretched out in undulating waves under the expansive southern sky, a tapestry of gold and green that John had grown accustomed to over countless journeys. 

As he drove, John passed the sign marking the outskirts of Mardin, its wooden slats weathered by seasons of rain and sun. The town itself was no more than a speck on the map, a place where time seemed to move slower, where people still waved to passing neighbors and life flowed in predictable rhythms.

Approaching the familiar railroad crossing, John slowed his truck as the red lights began their erratic dance, casting an eerie glow over the empty road. The barrier arms descended with mechanical precision, cutting off any retreat as the warning bells chimed their urgent refrain.

It was then that the first pang shot through John's chest, sharp and insistent. He winced, the pain spreading like tendrils of ice down his left arm. Panic flickered in his eyes as he gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white against the rubberized grip.

"Not now," he muttered through gritted teeth, trying to steady his breathing.

But his body betrayed him, rebellion pulsing through his veins as his vision blurred at the edges. The world seemed to slow, each passing second an eternity as he fought against the encroaching darkness. The semi-truck swayed slightly as John's foot hovered above the brake pedal, a battle between willpower and fate playing out in the confined space of the cabin.

The train's horn pierced the silence, a futile warning lost in the chaos of John's mind. The locomotive thundered into view, its headlights cutting through the gathering dusk. John's heart hammered against his ribs as he wrestled with the truck's controls, desperation driving him to halt the inevitable collision.

But fate, once set in motion, cared little for the struggles of men.

Metal screamed against metal, an agonizing symphony of destruction as the semi-truck careened into the path of the oncoming train. The world exploded in a cacophony of shattered glass and twisting steel, sparks cascading into the night sky like fireworks gone awry.

In that moment of impact, time fractured. The force of the collision tore through John's reality, wrenching him from the present into a liminal space where sound and sensation melded into a discordant symphony of pain.