ACT I

The Drift

CHAPTER 1

Warren Road

Luke Forester drove with the radio off.

He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. The sun was out. The road was dry. It was warmer than yesterday, or maybe he’d just worn the wrong jacket.

He wondered briefly if it was supposed to rain later. Then he forgot he’d wondered it.

His coffee had gone cold somewhere between the house and the pharmacy. He took another sip anyway and put it back in the cup holder. A woman walked a dog along the opposite sidewalk. Someone had tied balloons to a mailbox outside the daycare. They bounced lazily in the breeze.

Luke knew this stretch well enough that most mornings he couldn’t remember driving it.

The next intersection was Warren Road. He glanced at the street sign as it came into view. The light was green.

Something came back to him.

Almost.

Luke reached for the thought, but it slipped away before he could make sense of it. Then, suddenly and with overwhelming certainty, he felt the urge to stop.

Luke slammed on the brakes.

The tires screamed against the pavement. His coffee spilled out of the cup holder. Something in the back seat slid forward and thumped against the back of his seat. His seat belt caught him hard across the chest as the car skidded to a stop just short of the intersection.

Luke gripped the steering wheel.

Whoa.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Why did I do that?

He looked through the windshield.

The intersection was empty. There were no pedestrians. There was nothing lying in the road. There was nothing that explained why he’d just slammed on the brakes. The light above him was still green.

Luke checked his mirrors.

The self-driving car behind him slowed on its own, coming to a smooth stop several car lengths back. The man in the driver’s seat hadn’t been driving. He’d been looking down at something in his lap.

Now he looked up. He stared at Luke’s car. Then at the green light. Then back at Luke.

He reached forward deliberately for the steering wheel and pressed the horn.

BEEEEEP.

Luke raised a hand.

“Yeah.”

Good question.

What was he doing?

Luke tried to find the feeling again. It was still there. Not fear exactly, but something.

His heart was pounding now, but it hadn’t been when he’d hit the brakes. That was the strange part.

“What was I just thinking about?”

Rain? He’d been thinking about rain. Hadn’t he?

Luke looked left.

Nothing. Right. Nothing. The light was still green.

He started to lift his foot from the brake.

The feeling came back. Hard.

Luke froze.

A truck exploded through the intersection from the right.

It blew straight through the red light, enormous and moving far too fast. Luke barely had time to register the white cab before it crossed directly in front of him.

The truck missed his bumper by feet.

Then came the sound.

A horn. Brakes. The trailer swung sideways.

The truck jackknifed. The cab jumped the opposite curb and slammed into a utility pole with a sound like a tree splitting. The pole folded. Wires dropped in a shower of sparks.

The truck rolled onto its side and slid across the pavement. Metal screamed against asphalt.

Then everything stopped.

Luke stared through the windshield.

For several seconds, neither he nor the car behind him moved. Smoke rose from the overturned truck. One of its wheels was still spinning. The traffic light hung crooked above the intersection, swinging slowly from its cable.

Luke looked in the mirror.

The man in the car behind him was staring too. Their eyes met. Neither moved.

Then the man’s door opened.

He stepped into the road, phone already in his hand. He looked at the overturned truck, then back at Luke.

“How the hell did you see that coming?”

Luke opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

The man looked toward the wreck.

“Jesus. We’d better call 911.”