Regular July evenings were never as cold as the one tonight.

 Gray storm clouds blotted out the horizon along the Nevada skyline along Interstate 80-a few miles out from Reno-just as a matte black sedan zoomed down the empty freeway. Despite the solitary speed limit posted on a faded white speed limit sign, the car barreled on past, completely ignoring all rules of highway safety regulations.

    The driver was in too much danger to worry about the law of the land now.

    The clouds loomed in closer, coming down low and following close behind the Dodge Challenger that rushed through the mountain pass. If a spectator witnessed how the clouds chased after the racing car, one would suspect someone was controlling the clouds themselves. But there was no one to watch.
There were no witnesses.
Just the lone driver and the massive rainstorm following in the car's wake.
    The car nearly hit the concrete lane divider, narrowly missing the side of a tree covered hill. Leaving behind two sets of tire tracks left on the pavement, the sedan sped on, accelerating even more.
That was the driver's second mistake.
    He commited his second mistake when he looked in his rear view mirror. The driver of the speeding Dodge knew that he wouldn't make it past the border. So, without any regrets and a quick prayer to heaven, the driver stomped on the accelerator, redlining the car's engine. But even as fast as the driver was going, it was no match for the powerful rush of air that blew in from behind. The giant gray front of clouds overtook him.
    The driver took one last look behind him, just before the shadow of the clouds darkness enveloped the car and the driver completely. It was a very strange and captivating sight to see the gigantic, horseshoe shape of a cloud engulf the valley I-80 ran through. Some would call it a freak of nature. An anomaly in the weathee ecosystem. A surreal sight, but special because of its peculiarity.
But the driver knew it was something else much more deadly than just nature acting up.
    The speeding car slammed headlong into the four foot high lane divider. Sparks flew as the grill of the vehicle grated against the stalwart block of concrete, the sound of the two colliding deafening the driver. At first it felt like someone had pushed him from behind with the bucket of a backhoe and flipped him at sixty miles per hour. The dodge would've dug itself into the adjacent mountainside across the lane meridian if hadn't been for a tree that stopped it in mid flight.
    The car came to a sudden stop and the driver could feel the weight of his inertia fly forward, jarring the his chest into his seat belt. His weight was doubled from the impact; pain and agony engulfed his left shoulder and most of his midsection. Never had he experienced pain more sudden than this.
But he was no stranger to pain.
So when he cut himself loose with his boot knife and hauled himself out of his upside down car window, the driver found it surprisingly easy to walk, with the exception of his left leg being broken and blood leaking down the right side of his face.
    Even if both of his legs were broken, the driver knew his only chance of making out of Nevada alive was in his trunk.
     He had to get to the trunk.
     The driver half limped, half crawled his way to the back of the Challenger using a scarred left hand to steady himself against the smashed remnants of his demolished vehicle. It looked like a twenty-foot high baby had chewed on it and discarded under its crib.
    The driver spat once, then twice as he tried to get the taste of blood and saliva out of his mouth for a moment of clarity. Once he deemed he had wasted enough time checking to see if he was functional enough to fight, the driver slid over to the upside down wreckage of his trunk. He popped it open and he reached in, grunting in pain as he gripping in his hands the hope that would ensure his safety.
    He held it in the center of his palm, cradling it like a newborn, even whispering words to it in quiet agony as the storm clouds began blocking out all sight of the sun and its light.
     Eventually the entire atmosphere around the driver turned gray and muddled like an old photograph. The air began grow stale.
    "You must be in great pain", said a dark, guttural voice that seemed to emanate from the darkness itself. As the light waned, the driver gripped the object he held in his hands tighter than ever, a green glow passing in between his fingertips.
    "It'll hurt less when you're dead!" The driver spat back, adding a wad of phlegm and blood after his response. He straightened himself against the wreck of his car and faced the voice that came from the darkness.
    "I'm not afraid of you." The driver called out.
    "Oh, but you should be" the low timbre chided in a mocking sing-song voice.
     "It'll be more entertaining that way. Please, go ahead, use that trinket of yours. I would like to see how well it does as a backscratcher."
    The driver looked down at the small item he clutched in his palm, the glowing luminescence he held. Then he jerked his head up to face the wall of fog, his eyes scanning the bank of darkness that flowed in and out along the road, along the grass, even around the mountainside. It was like a giant snake made out of fog was coiling around the driver. Then a human figure descended from the sky out of the clouds, small rays of light bordering his silhouette, the only light that penetrated the darkness. It quickly disappeared as the dark figure cleared the wall of black ink.

    "You don't know what I possess." the driver said poignantly, his fingers loosening and tightening on the object. The humanoid shape touched down on the pavement, making no sound as it encroached upon the driver. The figure was tall, standing at about six feet and a half, two heads taller than the driver. The ominous person's shape was well silhouetted by the light behind him. The driver couldn't see any detail on or around his face; it was like staring into a bowl of ink.
    But the driver knew very well who he was talking to. He was the one whom he was needed to kill.
    "Oh, but I do," the dark figure gloated, raising a finger to point at the glowing object. "I'm the one who allowed you to take it."
    The driver slitted his eyes, his vision becoming blurred. He blinked it away, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.
    "No. No, no, that's not ..." He let his sentence trail off, his eyes staring into the shapeless face of the tall man glowering down at him. The driver finally shook his head, his motor skills becoming increasingly difficult. He found it hard to keep his eyes open, but he resisted with every last dropnof willpower that was left in his broken body.
    "That's impossible." the driver continued his sentence, gulping. "That doesn't make any sense, why-"
    "Because you were stupid enough to fall for it!" the giant man spoke, his voice growing louder in volume. "You Knite's are just too ambitious. Always trying to show off! Well, just look where that got you."
    As the driver chewed the inner lining of flesh in his mouth, he sighed to himself inwardly, silently admitting defeat. But not out loud. Not to the monstrosity standing before him. He would rather die than accept defeat.
    "Admit it," the figure crept closer, holding out his hand. The object in the driver's palm zipped out of his grasp and snapped into the outstretched fingers of the looming figure. The man in black studied it, tilting his head in a half mocking gesture at the deiver.
"Admit it." The tall man repeated, his voice becoming hard as iron. "Your first mistake. But also your last. Sadly."
    The driver let out a short snort from his nostrils, causing the figure to tilt his head suspiciously at him.
    "What? What are you laughing at?"
    The driver shrugged, raising his hands.
     "Did you rehearse that in the mirror? Or did you have some one to talk to?"
    The figure stepped forward, the darkness almost unbearable, visibility becoming scarce in the gloom.
     He bellowed, "Let me remind you-"
    Before the dark figure could get off another word, the driver put a foot on the edge of his overturned car, pushed off with his good leg, and pulled out his boot knife in one fluid motion. The figure saw the action coming and simply slapped the driver off to one side, sending him flying six feet in the air until he landed in a heap in the road.
    "How many times do I have to tell you?" the looming figure pressed towards the driver that was getting up. "I've beaten you. You are done. Admit it."
    The driver felt his side, blood coating his fingers. A few broken ribs. A few scrapes. Not bad, if he was going for the most number of ribs broken in one day. Even with his possibe broken leg and definite concussion, the driver saw the endgame in hand. As he stood to face the dark figure, the driver put on a smile. It was a sad smile, as he remembered what he would be leaving behind. But his thoughts were interrupted by noise.
    "You've made a mistake, and now you're going to pay for it!"
     The dark figure raised a hand in opposition, as if bidding a dog to heel.
     The dark figure said. "You're at the end of the road!"
    The driver rolled his eyes.
    "The only mistake I've made tonight," the driver said, advancing in a steady trot forward while revealing two large knives from inside both of his sleeves. "Is allowing myself listen to you for too long."

    "Any last words?" The dark figure stood poised and straight as a rod. The green orb of light shined bright in the gloom. The driver pressed on, despite the inevitable outcome. Even though he wasn't even close to being able to fight, his mind wandered elsewhere. He remembered home. He sought his mind for images of his family, of his loving wife. His daughter. His son. They would know what would happen to him. But it would all be lies, he knew. They wouldn't tell his family the whole story. And for good reason. The driver sifted through the images that flashed through his brain. When he found the memory he was looking for, he clutched onto it, just as the tall man lowered his arm outstretched, the green light flooding from his black palm.
    The driver smirked, reciting an old quote. "I only regret that I have but one life to-"
    The dark figure released his fingers, letting go of the green orb. A loud, cacophonous roar echoed across the valley as the overpowering emerald sheen engulfed the driver whole.