Disappear: Into Shadow

- CHAPTER ONE -

Timothy Huntley had been thinking about his wife. Beautiful, funny and compassionate she had been the love of his life. Similar thoughts had filled his mind, at the very least, every hour of every day since they first met. Tonight those thoughts held a new urgency. Timothy was dying. He believed the few reminisces that now were passing through his mind may very well be his last.

He had only finished his shift at the airport twenty minutes earlier. Excited to get home, he almost ran from the control tower to his car in the parking lot. Timothy had been promoted to head controller of his shift. The new job title held far greater responsibilities, not only for the actions of the other controllers but for all the local air traffic. There would be a radically heightened stress load incumbent with the position, the respect of his co-workers, not to mention a certain sense of prestige. However, none of that really mattered to Timothy.

The promotion meant better money, better benefits and more vacation time. That meant more, more, more for him and his wife. The raise was nice and so were the benefits, but it was the additional vacation days that meant the most; those meant more time with Lucy.

Driving along the highway, he wasn't speeding to excess and was being passed more often than not. Timothy was not a man to take great risks. Not with the planes in the sky or with his own life. He had never even set foot in a casino. With every passing second bringing him closer to home, Timothy let his mind wander. He thought about where he and Lucy might go on their longer vacations, and considered what the extra money could do for their small house. After all, Lucy had been eager to renovate for the last few years and now they could. He thought about what he could buy for her. None of his thoughts were about himself. They all revolved around making Lucy happy.

She was his heart, his rock, his strength, his friend and Timothy knew that without her he would be a lesser man. Nothing more than a cheap imitation, a carbon copy of a carbon copy.

"Flowers," Timothy said, smiling to himself. "I'll stop and get her some flowers."

Rumbling down the centre lane of the highway, just ahead of Timothy's car, was a jostling flatbed tractor-trailer. Transporting a load of concrete pipe joints, it was bound for a new building development outside of the city. The joints, wide enough for two or three men to stand on each other's shoulders at the pipe's centre, were stacked end to end and maxed the outer limit of the flatbed's weight rating.

The driver, who had pushed himself through a long run, was well past his driving allotment for the day. Exhausted, he had accepted the last run, and now just wanted to get the load to the construction yard. The amphetamines chased by the big gulp coffees he had drained over the last hours had well worn off and his drooping eyes were heavy. Finally, not aware he was doing so, he gave in to sleep. Slumping forward across his wheel, the weight of his body succeeded in keeping the rig centered as it sped down the freeway, driverless, for the next few seconds.

Disoriented, the driver woke with a start. As his weight came off the wheel, it jerked and the rig veered left. Grabbing the spinning wheel, he yanked it hard right, trying to correct the sharp turn. All he managed to do was jack-knife the trailer.

The flatbed skidded out, the weight dragged it over onto its side. The rig snapped free of the trailer as it twisted. Momentum had taken its toll on the cab, flipping it. Rolling across the center and right lanes of the highway it crashed into the grass by the road.

The ties holding the sewer joints down to the trailer snapped. The load came free, one joint after the other. Some bounced, others rolled, while many broke apart, crumbling into a flying cloud of debris that scattered in a wide arc over all the six lanes of the highway.