Pain exploded in Alex's right foot and he looked down to see why. One of his shoes was gone. He'd just stepped on broken glass, and he could feel it cutting into his sole with every step.
"Damn it," he hissed through his teeth, but he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. The engine sound behind him was getting louder.
In his panicked state, his mind started racing. 'Someone's trying to kill me. This is real. This is actually happening.' It seemed insane, but what other explanation was there?
Ahead, he spotted the wire mesh fence that bordered the parking lot. Without thinking, he changed direction and ran toward it, his injured foot leaving bloody prints on the pavement.
He reached the fence and grabbed it with both hands, preparing to climb. Behind him, tires screeched as the vehicle adjusted its trajectory.
Alex pulled himself up, fingers laced through the chain-link, when suddenly headlights blazed from his left. Another vehicle, or the same one, came roaring around the corner.
He was caught. Fence on one side, truck on the other.
Then he saw it: a drainage ditch about ten feet away, partially filled with stagnant water. It looked disgusting. It probably *was* disgusting.
But it was better than being flattened.
Alex let go of the fence and threw himself sideways, sprinting for the water as the truck barreled through the chain-link behind him. Metal shrieked. The fence collapsed.
He dove into the ditch.
The water was cold and foul, tasting of chemicals and rot. He went under completely, staying down as long as he could, his lungs burning. Above him, he heard the truck roar past, its engine Doppler-shifting as it continued down the road.
Alex waited, counting seconds in his head. When he finally surfaced, gasping and spitting, the parking lot had gone quiet.
He dragged himself out of the water, his clothes soaked and reeking.
"God damn it," he said, spitting again. "I just drank sewer water. I just..." He gagged but managed not to vomit.
His phone. He needed his phone to call the police. But it had been in his car, and his car was... wherever it was. Totaled, probably.
'The security outpost. That's where I need to go.'
Alex started walking, still limping, constantly looking over his shoulder. The road was empty now, lit only by street lamps. No sign of the truck. But that didn't mean it wasn't coming back.
When he reached the security outpost, he pounded on the door.
Nothing.
"Hey!" he shouted. "Anyone in there?"
Silence.
He pounded harder. "Officer! Security! Are you sleeping?"
Finally, movement inside. Two elderly men in uniform appeared behind the glass window, looking confused and annoyed. There was a small slot at the bottom, just big enough to pass items through.
"Why did you let a truck in here?" Alex demanded, breathing hard. "Some maniac just tried to kill me in your parking lot!"
The guards exchanged glances. One of them spoke, his voice muffled by the glass. "No trucks came through here tonight, sir. Just employees leaving."
"I'm standing here covered in shit water!" Alex gestured at himself. "You think I do this for fun? I was chased by a truck! It crashed into my car, chased me around the lot, I had to jump in the drainage ditch to avoid getting killed!"
The guards looked skeptical.
"Did you hear a crash?" Alex asked. "My car flipped over. There was a huge crash!"
They shook their heads.
Alex wanted to scream. Instead, he took a breath. "Fine. I need to use your phone. I'm calling the police."
One of the guards hesitated, then pushed a phone through the slot.
Alex grabbed it and dialed 911, his hands shaking as he turned away from the guards.
"This is 911, what's your emergency?"
"I'm at the Techron Industries parking lot off Route 9," Alex said quickly. "Someone in a truck has been trying to kill me for the last..."
He stopped.
Outside, maybe fifty feet away, he saw them: headlights. The truck was back, engine idling, pointed directly at the security outpost.
"They're here," Alex whispered. Then louder: "They're here! The truck just came back!"
The engine revved.
"Sir, please stay calm."
"Calm? Lady, I can't..."
The truck accelerated.
Alex dropped the phone and ran.
Behind him, the sound of impact. Metal and glass and wood exploding. He looked back to see the security outpost collapsing, the truck having smashed straight through it. The guards...
He couldn't think about the guards.
"Send help!" he screamed at the phone he'd dropped. "Send everyone! Police, ambulance, I don't care, just send them to Techron Industries!"
He ran toward the main office building. If he could get inside, he could lock the doors, hide, wait for help. The truck was behind him but having to navigate through the wreckage of the security post.
Alex's lungs burned. His leg was bleeding steadily now, leaving a trail. He could see the building entrance ahead.
The truck suddenly appeared in front of him, cutting him off, blocking the doors.
"How?" Alex gasped.
The truck reversed slightly, lining him up. The headlights seemed to stare at him. There was something personal about it, something that felt almost... alive.
Alex dove to the side as the truck surged forward. He rolled, came up running, and spotted a delivery van parked nearby. Company vehicle, probably left there by someone working late.
He scrambled to it, yanked the door open. The keys were in the ignition.
"Thank you," Alex breathed, and started the engine.
The truck was already turning around, coming for him again.
Alex threw the van in reverse, backed up, then slammed it into drive and floored the gas pedal. The van lurched forward, picking up speed. He aimed it directly at the truck.
"Come on then!" he shouted.
They collided with a sound like the end of the world. Metal crumpled. The airbag deployed in Alex's face again. But the truck had stopped, at least temporarily, its front end crushed against the van's grille.
Alex shoved the airbag aside and stumbled out of the van. He had to see who was driving. Had to know who was trying to kill him.
He ran to the truck's driver-side door and yanked it open.
An old man sat behind the wheel, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other reaching out and grabbing Alex by the jacket with surprising strength. Before Alex could react, the man pulled him into the truck.
"What... get off me!" Alex struggled, but the old man's grip was iron.
The man was smiling. Not a friendly smile. Something else. Something wrong.
"Let go!" Alex threw an elbow that connected with the man's jaw, but the smile never wavered.
"Buckle up," the old man said, his voice raspy and cheerful. "I'm taking you for a ride."
The truck was moving again, accelerating despite the damage to its front end.
Alex grabbed his own tie, still somehow around his neck, and looped it around the old man's throat, pulling tight.
"Stop the car!" Alex yelled. "Stop it right now!"
The old man didn't seem bothered. The truck kept accelerating, faster and faster, leaving the parking lot behind. Buildings blurred past the windows. The speedometer climbed: 60, 70, 80 miles per hour.
Alex pulled tighter on the tie, his arms shaking with effort. The old man's smile finally started to fade. His face reddened. But still the truck accelerated.
Alex couldn't see where they were going anymore. The world outside had become streaks of light and shadow. The truck was moving impossibly fast, and the old man's hands were still on the wheel, steady despite the tie cutting off his air.
"Please," Alex said, though he didn't know what he was asking for anymore.
The old man's eyes met his in the rearview mirror.
Then everything went white.
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