† NIGHT ROAD †

•CHAPTER ONE•

                          - Just getting by -

Georgia, I-10 heading south
Night of November 4.
Sunrise: 6:59 a.m.
Blood: [•][•][ ][ ][ ][ ]

I'm getting ready to pass a diesel Mercedes when the shifter goes all loose. I jiggle the switch and pump the clutch, but it's like holding a dead child's hand.
My old Honda drifts off the highway in a cloud of sand and rubble. A moment later the engine stalls. I pop the hood open and fumble around in the back for a flashlight, realising it's getting light outside.

I immediately feel this poor car, my one and only companion for 15 years is finished and if I'm still out here for any longer I too will be.

Eventually everything gets fucked up in life  so I pull out my old iPhone and check the time in the cracked screen: 6:41 a.m.
I've been making these courier runs for ten years each year making less than the last, hiding in trunks, storage units, dumpsters during the day, racing along the highway with messages and parcels on the passenger seat, though my main goal was just to survive another night. Things eventually get boring and being in an ageless body just adds to the feeling of being trapped in the same cycle over and over and over and...

*sigh

I just want to remember the feeling of life, my face in warm sun laying on sandy beach and just letting the ocean breeze run along my skin. Life was easier when I was alive, less problems and more to loose. I've kept in touch with a few of my friends but soon they will be nothing I will still be here, alone.

Well I'm not bored now. I'm breathing again, short frightened little breaths as I watch the sun become a little brighter each time. Nerves I thought were extinguished years ago fire up in an instant, making my hands shiver. I almost feel alive as I check under the hood.

The engine is totally fucked. No suprise there as maintenance hasn't been a possibility, let alone a priority. And as I stare at the engine more closely I notice how surface problems become more deeper and complex. I've been ignoring the warning signs, like an old woman coughing but not wanting to go to the doctor. Although it's not my fault. Apart from every day survival the Camarilla haven't cut me any slack.

I'm probably going to look into this for the next hour which I don't have so I look around the dusty highway, the wasteland that stretches out for miles in the black horizon, facing every direction, trying to recall my mortal life. Something I learnt when I still drew breath must have the power to save me here.

I got a good education and haven't let my knowledge fade now that I'm dead. I quickly open my dashboard compartment and pull out a map to figure out where to go. It's a little torn but will do for the situation. The signal out here is terrible in the middle of nowhere but that doesn't stop me from using a map on my phone but I refuse as it protects me from being tracked.

From the map I quickly cobble together where I am more or less and two possible ways in which I could go.

The first is to head to an abandoned bus stop though that would hardly protect me from the sun, alternatively I could head to an abandoned gas station which sounds way better than the previous option, so I do.

As fast as I can I grab my satchel holding the deliveries and abandon the Honda to rot on the side of the highway. I kick a trash can in hopes of finding something useful, but most of it is either crushed soda cans or paper.

I run across the street and try the next and find a 20 mph speed limit sign which indicates thats not a highway. It must have come from an industrial park or an abandoned housing subdivision.

With the sky lightening, I know I have no choice but to run the other direction as the one I'm in is to far now. I run south, jumping over scrubs and rocks until I find the bus stop. I look around to see if I can spot anything for miles.