The clock on Alex Mercer's computer screen read 12:03 AM when he finally started tossing his belongings into a cardboard box. Another sixteen-hour day at the tech company, another night of being the last one out. He'd won "Employee of the Year" three times in a row, though lately he'd been wondering what exactly he'd won besides chronic back pain and a permanent desk dent shaped like his ass.
At five foot eight, with his sky blue tie hanging loose and his white shirt untucked beneath his black jacket, Alex made his way through the dimly lit office halls. The glow of computer screens had given way to the flickering hum of fluorescent lights. The AC's steady drone was the only sound as he headed for the parking lot, where his compact car, a pitiful reward for years of corporate servitude, waited in its usual spot.
He opened the trunk and set the cardboard box inside, then slammed it down.
The trunk popped back open.
"Of course," Alex muttered.
He knew this dance well. The trunk latch had been temperamental ever since he'd backed into a pole during his first month of driving, years ago. He'd never bothered getting it fixed. Too cheap, really, and somehow the routine had become familiar. Comforting, almost, in its predictability.
He placed both hands on the trunk lid and leaned his full weight into it until he heard the catch click. There. Done.
The trunk wasn't the only defective thing in his life.
Alex had never been in a relationship. Most people found him... too much. Too eager, too intense, too *extra*. After enough rejection in high school and college, after enough girls had made it clear they found him unattractive, or weird, or both, he'd stopped trying. He looked better now than he had back then, less awkward, but the damage was done. He'd adopted a new philosophy: "Riches before bitches."
Now he was just an average guy working at a big tech company, earning a decent salary, living alone. One look at him and anyone could see it. The pitiful solitude of a life without companionship.
As Alex walked toward his car, he scanned the parking lot and the street beyond.
"Traffic looks light. Should be home in an hour," he said to himself.
A cold breeze cut through his jacket, and he rubbed his arms as he hurried the last few steps to his car door. The parking lot felt emptier than usual, the silence heavier.
As he slid into the driver's seat, something caught his eye in the side mirror. A quick flash of headlights, there and gone.
"Must be security leaving early," Alex said with a scoff. "Wonder what we're even paying them for."
He turned the key and navigated through the parking garage's narrow ramps with practiced ease. His driving had improved over the years, at least. He reached for the radio to fill the silence. The distant hum of traffic on the highway wasn't enough to keep his thoughts from wandering.
A familiar song came on, and Alex started tapping his finger on the steering wheel. His head bobbed. He whistled along, then started singing.
"Yeah, I'm gonna take my horse to the old town road, I'm gonna ride 'til I can't no more."
His voice grew louder, more enthusiastic.
"Riding on a tractor, lean all in my bladder, cheated on my baby, you can go and ask her."
The impact came without warning.
Metal screamed. Glass exploded. The world flipped.
Alex's car spun through the air and slammed upside down onto the concrete. His head cracked against something hard. The airbag deployed with a chemical smell that filled his nose and throat. Everything was wrong. Up was down, his seatbelt was digging into his shoulder, and his mouth tasted like copper.
Blood. He was tasting blood.
He blinked, trying to focus. A horn was blaring somewhere, distant and distorted. His car was upside down, windows shattered, parts scattered across the pavement.
"Shit," Alex gasped, fumbling with the seatbelt release. It finally clicked and he fell against the roof of the car, coughing. He crawled through the broken window, dragging himself onto the cold concrete.
The ground was wet with something. Oil, probably. Or blood.
"Shit, shit, shit." He rolled onto his hands and knees, coughing harder now. It hurt to breathe. Hurt to swallow. For a moment he panicked, wondering if he'd swallowed glass while he'd been singing with his mouth wide open.
He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't cooperate properly. As he struggled to his feet, a blinding light hit him full in the face.
An engine roared, the sound growing louder. Not just loud. Aggressive. Like the Formula One cars he'd seen on TV, all raw power and violence.
Alex turned toward the sound and his stomach dropped.
A vehicle was bearing down on him, headlights blazing, accelerating.
"No, no, no." Alex stumbled backward, his injured leg nearly giving out. "Not today."
He turned and ran, or tried to. It was more of a desperate, limping sprint, his body moving on pure adrenaline. He glanced back. The headlights were getting closer.
"Not today!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "Not today, not fucking today."
Sweat poured down his face. His vision blurred. Every part of him hurt, but he kept moving, hauling himself forward with everything he had.
**********
[A/N : Started this book a year ago and ended up unfortunately sick. I'm well now and back. Please show support by adding to your library, voting with powerstones, golden tickets and gifts if you may]