Chuck acted on pure reflex, yanking the wheel to the right. He managed to avoid the oncoming car, if only barely. But the other driver, apparently not trusting the manoeuvrability of the truck, or perhaps doubting Chuck, was already veering into the ditch beside the road, too fast to end in anything other than a crash. Chuck slammed on the brakes with all his might, awkwardly attempting to course-correct, but his truck remained obstinately unresponsive. He managed to regain control of the vehicle and bring it back on the shoulder of its lane.
All at once, the semitruck's engine seized with a violent shudder. The flickering dashboard lights died, the needles dropping to zero. A deep, unanticipated darkness descended upon the cab. The colossal vehicle jerked to a complete halt at the edge of the road.
"Fuck!" Chuck roared. slamming his fist into the steering wheel.
The trucker peered anxiously into his side mirror, beholding naught in the black, starless night. Chuck was convinced he'd witnessed the car swerve into the ditch. Shaken to his core, he turned the key in the ignition, but it was fruitless. There wasn't a sound coming from under the hood. The sudden breakdown confused him, but it was mainly the road departure that had him in a tizzy.
He was certain he had caused an accident.
"If it weren't for that cursed helicopter," he fumed, "what business did it have flying so low? And I couldn't have dreamed it, it really did crash... It crashed, damn it!"
The trucker struggled to believe what he had seen. He even wondered if he had imagined the entire episode, his mind addled from endless hours on the road. He didn't know what to think anymore, especially since he was starting to hallucinate because of his lack of sleep.
Chuck scrutinized the side mirror once more. Nothing stirred. He resolved to investigate whether the car had truly run off the road. In any event, his truck was no longer responsive, and if an accident had indeed occurred, he couldn't simply abscond. He fervently hoped he was mistaken, that the other driver had had sufficient time to avoid catastrophe. Grabbing the flashlight from behind him, he clambered out of the semi-trailer truck.
An ominous atmosphere had descended, blanketing everything in an brief eerie silence as a light breeze stirred the trees. What disturbed Chuck the most was the absence of light emanating from the street lamps on the side of the road. They had all gone out simultaneously with his truck, and everything seemed to have ground to a halt. Such an occurrence was beyond anything he'd experienced before. How could such a bizarre thing happen? He had no answers.
Chuck made his way towards the vehicle that had careened off the road, breaths shallow and heart pounding in his chest. He had no idea what to expect, but he fervently hoped he hadn't killed anyone with his negligence. In no time, a silhouette emerged from the murky light, and his fears were slightly allayed when it resolved into the shape of an overturned vehicle. The bodywork seemed to have suffered minimal damage at first glance. He drew closer with his fear of having killed someone who would not leave him. The situation still made him anxious, holding his flashlight high to illuminate as much of the area as possible
As Chuck approached the car, he hear distant voices emanating from within. His apprehension began to dissipate at the sound of human presence, replaced by relief. A disheveled man crawled out of the wreckage and rushed to the other side of the car, oblivious to Chuck's presence. In an agitated tone, the man asked frantic questions to another person who accompanied him. He then exerted his strength to extract a woman through a broken window of the car, who appeared to have hurt her wrist. The young man helped the woman get back on her feet. Chuck, concerned for their safety, moved closer and shone his torch on them.
"Are you alright? Are you injured?" Chuck inquired, anxious to assess their condition.
The man, noticing Chuck for the first time, gently placed his wife on the ground before storming over to Chuck, his face contorted in fury.
"It was you, wasn't it?" he bellowed. "You're the driver of that damn semi truck!"
Embarrassment stained Chucks face. "Yes, it was me"
"What the hell were you doing on the wrong side of the road? My wife is injured! If I hadent acted quickly, the situation could've been much worse!" the man ranted, gesticulating wildly.
In the face of the man's fury, Chuck was dumbstruck.
"I..." he began, at a loss for words.
The man railed on, accusing Chuck of carelessness and demanding to know why he had been on the wrong side of the road. Chuck knew he was at fault, and the weight of that realization was heavy upon him. He could only stammer in response, unable to find the right words. He didn't dare confess the truth to the man - the possibility of a military helicopter crash seemed too far-fetched.
As Chuck stood there, tongue-tied, the young woman with the injured wrist stepped forward to intervene.
"It's all right, Bryan," she murmured, placing a gentle hand on her husband's arm. "I'm fine. Maybe there was a good reason why he swerved into our lane." She turned to Chuck. "Isn't that so?"
"Yes," the trucker managed to say. "I lost control of my truck. It just stopped responding. Must have been a battery failure or something."
Chuck breathed a sigh of relief as Bryan retreated to inspect his car. The trucker was left alone with the pretty blonde, whose wrist he had been examining. Chucks flashlight cast a faint glow, illuminating her face, and her blue eyes shone like jewels in the dark.
"May I take a look?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.
The injured woman hesitated before nodding her head, allowing him to continue his examination.
"It doesn't look too serious... I have a first aid kit in my truck. If you want, I can make you a bandage. It's within my capabilities."
She nodded in agreement. "Thank you. I'm Julia, and that guy over there is my husband, Bryan. Sorry for the little scene."
Chuck shook his head, regret etched on his face.
"I'm the one who should be sorry... I could have killed you."
Julia smiled at him, and he was struck by how radiant she looked, despite the circumstances.
"It's okay, don't worry about it," she said.
Chuck couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt wash over him, but these kind words and forgiving demeanor helped to ease the weight of his burden, if only slightly.
Chuck gazed upon Julia's visage, which was illuminated by the lamp's halo, and felt a profound warmth radiating from her... Bryan, a strapping and dynamic lad with brown hair, appeared behind them. He was evidently disoriented.
"I fear the car is ruined," he lamented. "The damage may appear slight, but we need to pull it out of the ditch to check. It's stuck," he added, frowning.
"The two of us should be able to free it," Chuck suggested. "It's not too deeply embedded."
Chuck was intrigued.
"I don't think it's because of the impact."
"Why not?" inquired Julia.
"My truck has the same problem... It started malfunctioning, the engine suddenly shut off, and then nothing. There's definitely a breakdown, but all of this is... It's beyond me, to be honest."
Bryan fumbled in his pocket for his phone to summon aid, but the device obstinately refused to turn on despite his repeated attempts.
"This is strange," Bryan grumbled. "My cell phone is dead."
Julia mirrored her husband's actions.
"Mine too." she exclaimed, perturbed. "What's happening?"
Chuck found the phenomenon peculiar and began contemplating the matter.
"First cars, and now cell phones," he muttered, lost in thought. "It seems to be affecting electronic systems..."
"What are we going to do?" asked Julia, as Bryan continued to fiddle with his phone.
"Let's tend to your injury first," proposed Chuck. "And I'll see if I can make a call from my CB radio."
They made their way back to the immobilized semi-truck. Chuck ascended to retrieve the first aid kit, and as he passed by, attempted to turn on the CB radio, only to be met with eerie silence. As he had feared. He descended and gave Bryan a headshake, communicating the radio's failure, before proceeding to tend to Julia's wrist, carefully applying the bandages.
"Where are you from?" Chuck inquired as he worked.
"We were coming from Allentown, Pennsylvania," Bryan responded with a look of unease. "We were headed to my family in Maine."
"A long journey indeed," Chuck replied, his words aimed at relieving the tension.
"I've come from Montreal, delivering cargo to Albany. I was running late and I was not very attentive to my driving. By the way, I'm Chuck."
"Nice to meet you Chuck." replied Julia with a broad smile.
As Chuck finished the bandaging, Bryan shining the flashlight over them, their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the presence of a stranger. A beam of light flickered behind them, causing them to jump and spin around.
"Excuse me!" the newcomer called out. "I'm having some car trouble and was trying to make a call, but it appears my battery is dead? I could've sworn I charged it..."
The man stood before them, clad in a padded jacket and black pants. His square jaw covered by a thick beard gave him an air of eloquence and gravitas, which was offset by his sturdy and stocky frame. Something about the depth of his dark eyes, set against his tousled chestnut hair, piqued the trucker's curiosity.
Chuck, having firmly secured the bandage, spoke up. "We're in the same boat as you, nothing's working."
"That's mighty strange," replied the man from the black pick-up, surveying his surroundings. "Wait, do you hear that?"
Turning their attention towards the horizon, they could discern the muffled sounds of several people in the same predicament. Streetlights had gone out, engines were silent, replaced by a few scattered beams of light and indistinct muttering voices.
"I'm Ron," the man continued, extending his hand to Chuck. "If I didn't come to you right away, it's because I was preparing myself for the worst... Well, I was a little apprehensive, to tell you the truth. I'm always on guard."
Chuck reached over to shake Ron's hand, noticing as he did the way Ron's gaze slid down to his hip, locking on the gun holstered there. But he didn't comment on it, or react beyond a slight tensing of his shoulders, widening of his eyes, and the offered handshake was firm. The trucker introduced him to the couple standing behind him.
"These are Bryan and Julia. We had a little accident on the road, but we're all right now," Chuck said with a regretful look to the couple. He then half-heartedly tested his phone, with no hope. "Yeah... dead too. It's like all the circuitry got fried. We need to find a way out of here."
The sound of crunching footsteps caught their attention. A man approached them from the opposite side of the road, signaling them with a powerful flashlight.
"Hey there! Are you okay?" he shouted breathlessly due to his overweight. "Everything all right on your side?"
Chuck tried to make out the silhouette clearly, taking the lead as the darkness heightened the tension, despite the flashlights that tried to illuminate the stranger in the distance.
"We're fine, we're just trying to figure out what's going on. A strange power outage has left us all stranded. I assume you're in the same situation?"
"We're blocked too."
The stranger stopped a couple dozen feet away. As the group drew closer to him, Chuck could make out the forms of several cars, all immobilized on the road seventy yards from his semi truck, the place where the corpulent man had originally come.
Ron squinted, looking from the group to the shadow of a car further down the road.
"How many of you are there?" he asked.
"About ten of us, but we have a problem... there's a pregnant woman in the car right behind mine. "This is the last thing we needed!" Chuck muttered under his breath.
"She needs an ambulance!" boomed the corpulent man, his voice echoing through the air.
Chuck reached for his phone, remembering as his fingers closed around it that it was less useful to him than a brick right now.
"How are we meant to call one? Nothing's functioning!" he exclaimed in exasperation.
"You too? Damn it, what is going on?" The stranger sounded like he was on the brink of losing his composure. Before he could work himself into hysterics, Chuck endeavored to placate him.
All of a sudden, the man standing across from them froze. He fixed his gaze on something behind them. At first, Chuck wasn't sure what had grabbed his attention. There was a glint of light, but he thought it was the light emanating from the torch of the stranger reflecting off something further up the road. But then, the man pointed, his body frozen with terror. He started to scream at the top of his lungs.
"Watch out! Behind you!"