Rook woke to silence. His rig had somehow coasted to the outskirts of a town he didn't recognize. Main Street was empty, storefronts dark, windows boarded. The only light came from a flickering diner sign, buzzing weakly.
The air smelled like dust and ozone.
He staggered out of the cab, still shaking. His reflection in the diner window made his stomach twist. His veins still glowed faint red. His eyes looked rimmed with exhaust smoke.
The diner door creaked open. Inside, one person waited at the counter. A woman, maybe late thirties, with dark hair tied back under a trucker's cap. She didn't look surprised to see him.
"You finally made it," she said.