A huge, armored truck pierced through the yellow fog. Contrasting against the maroon background, the word 'FreightWay' was printed on the wide side of the vehicle in bold white letters. Similarly, a small '009' labeled the truck on all sides.
The truck rumbled across the road, its roar thundering out into the unknown. Having just exited the highway, it was now on the final stretch to its destination.
The driver navigated his way through the low visibility, relying on the instruments in the panel. From the highway exit to the neighborhood streets: this section of the route warranted the highest degree of caution.
But the driver was quite experienced and calm. With a heavy sigh, he wearily glanced over at his sleeping partner. Shaking his head, the driver redirected his attention to navigating the road.
So far, so good.
As long as he rigorously checked the instruments and was careful in his driving, nothing would go—
Boom!
The driver jerked the steering wheel to the right, screeching the truck into an extreme turn causing it to swerve and dive off the road, slamming into whatever was ahead.
The driver slowly parted his eyelid. His head rested on the steering wheel and the world was tilted sideways. A high-pitched ringing sounded in his ears and his body felt disconnected from his mind.
A sharp, tangy smell overwhelmed the cab. The driver's eyes drifted towards the adjacent seat. A tangled body. Cracked glass. Blood.
Now, the ringing in his ears overwhelmed every other one of his senses and his eyelids were as heavy as lead. The hum and rumble of the truck further alienated his senses. From what seemed like far away, he heard the faint thud of an opening door and the sound of voices.
His vision darkened and his eyes closed.
"Wow, what a mess."
A head popped up to peek into the cab. Wrapped up in a scarf, the only noticeable features were his dark eyes framed by goggles along with a tuft of caramel brown hair poking out over them.
After a quick survey, the man jumped off the truck and turned to his companion.
"All clear. Sadly, they don't have any guns, but they're out cold, Corvus. You don't think we might've killed them, do you?"
Corvus wrenched open the back of the truck. Pushing away the door, he climbed into the back and began rummaging through the cargo. After he found what he was looking for, he hopped back down and tossed a gas mask at the other person.
Removing his headpieces, Corvus slipped on his own mask. Ruffling his dark hair, he scanned their perimeter. The fog had been incredibly dense in the last few weeks. Having finally relented, it allowed for dozens of yards of visibility.
Posting against the wrecked truck and slipping the other into his pocket, Corvus finally replied.
"I told you that explosives weren't a good idea. We can't even salvage the truck."
"Yeah, okay, but we didn't have the gear to do it the normal way."
"That's right," Corvus replied in mock agreement. He leisurely walked back to the truck's rear and grunted as he lifted a heavy box onto the pavement. "If only a certain someone didn't drive ours off a cliff, we wouldn't be doing this in the first place, either."
"You're damn right!—Who did that again?"
"Leon did."
"Yup, it was me." Leon jogged over to Corvus and helped remove the boxes from the truck. "I was hoping you'd forget. But, hey, it worked out in the end, didn't it?"
"As if. Hey, could you cut those boxes open?"
Leon complied. Yanking a blade from his belt, he began slicing at the boxes of cardboard or whatever synthetic material it was made out of. After opening all of the boxes, he removed any essentials and stuffed them into his bag. Corvus joined him after checking the cab.
The two bags were soon filled.
"I'm filled up," Leon called out.
"Likewise," Corvus replied. "I guess it's time we get going."
The two started down the road.
"Wouldn't you say it was a pretty good haul?"
"Definitely, though it's a pity we lost our truck."
"Hey, don't be too stuck up on that."
The wind picked up speed. There was a harsh rustling in the wind even though most of the vegetation had withered away ages ago, and it echoed like the exhalation of a great primordial beast. Following the movement of the wind, the visibility decreased momentarily.
When the wind finally settled, the range of vision expanded, closer than before but far out enough.
The deep hum of a motor sounded in the distance. Its presence had been concealed by the wind, causing both Corvus and Leon to be ignorant of its approach.
Another truck, identical to the one they had just wrecked, slowly materialized in the distance.
"Aw, shit!" Leon exclaimed, slinging a bag over his shoulder.
Corvus mumbled an agreement as the two dashed off the road looking for a place to hide.
Not there…
Too close…
No…
Nowhere. There wasn't a cover nearby large enough for either of them, let alone both of them.
"You just had to set the trap there?" Corvus criticized, his words spoken through clenched jaws.
"Hey," Leon began defensively, his voice gradually rising, "it's abnormal for delivery trucks to be so close together—unless fucking FreightWay changed their policy. How in Hell could I have known?"
Pivoting their heads, they scanned the surroundings, straining their eyesight to probe further into the fog.
Their eyes caught onto something. It was deeper into the fog and further from the road than would be preferred, but there was no time to be choosy. The fog had loosened its blindfolds, so the road would be visible even from that distance.
With a glance of acknowledgment, the two sprinted over and slid into a sprawl behind a small mound. They glimpsed over the ridge to watch as the second truck slowed to a halt.
Leon hurriedly ducked his head. Elbowing Corvus, he barely spoke above a whisper.
"It's truck 121."
Corvus glanced at the truck. "Damn it."
"That's Colonel's truck."
"I know. Of all the damn trucks out there, it just had to be this one."
On the road, two men, seeing no other person within their proximity, swung their doors open and slammed them shut behind them, disembarking from the truck.
One of the men was muscular and burly, his body a bit on the heavier side; the other man had a lean and well-built body of athleticism.
They were in uniform: a red and white tactical outfit with FreightWay's logo pressed onto the back. Their masks also adopted the same color scheme of maroon red with white highlights.
Investigating the situation they happened upon, the two men wandered around the damaged truck. They noticed the charred road, the black trail of the screeching tires, and the scattered boxes with half of the contents strewn about.
Realizing that the people in the cab were still alive, they hoisted down the unconscious duo and laid them beside the truck. The burly man called for assistance through a radio fixed onto his shoulder.
The lean man walked over and kicked a box, further throwing the scene into disarray.
"It's the Hijackers, again." An emphasis of revulsion was placed on the last word.
"They didn't steal the truck this time around," the burly man observed as he shifted the strewn items with his feet.
"Probably didn't need to. Might be why they set off explosives—when's the medical team arriving? We can't just leave these two here, but we need to stay on schedule."
"It won't be long—we're just off the highway."
"They should hurry."
"I wish I could tell them that. But you never hear of them—"
Bang!
The lean man had suddenly jerked up his rifle and fired into the distance.
His companion promptly took up the same pose, and the two of them inched into the fog. Cautiously walking off the road, the two surveyed the area as they went.
Tracing their eyesight with the barrel of their gun, they scanned the perimeter. The silence passed slowly, bothered only by the hushing of the wind.
Finally, the two men lowered their rifles.
"There's no one here," the burly man spoke, turning a questioning look at the other.
"No—" the man got down on one knee and, brushing fingers over the ground, wiped up blood "—someone was here."