Page 122 of Deadly Misfortunes

"A jacked-up pickup truck? I never asked this before, but can we change our future in your predictions?"

"The vision I had might not even be about a situation we encounter right now, but at some other time."

"I wish they were more precise."

"Yeah, don't you know it. I always feel that way."

"I'm going to pull off the highway and get gas. Does it happen at a gas station?"

"All I see is her running us over."

"Not of us getting out of the vehicle?" He wanted to do anything to protect Sascha.

That's when he saw a black truck like she had described coming after them, barreling up, dashing around other cars, nearly causing another wreck, and passing an 18-wheeler with barely any room to spare; he laid on his horn.

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Both of them braced for the truck coming for them as if it were an orca whale, diving past all the other "boats" and targeting just one—Gregory's used car.

"It's gaining," Sascha warned, watching it through the sideview mirror.

"Traffic is so heavy. I'll try to get off on the next exit but not signal like I usually do so that the driver might miss us getting off here."

"You're not slowing down."

"Nope. Okay, here goes." Gregory dove for the exit at the last minute, though he'd made sure that he wasn't cutting anyone else off.

The truck nearly hit another car while trying to get around it to take the exit.

Gregory called the police about the truck driver, who was driving as if experiencing road rage, and provided their location. He wished now that he had a cam recorder recording everything that was going on.

Unfortunately, the truck managed to take the exit at the last second, nearly hitting the divider. Then it tore down the ramp and onto the access road.

"Are you going to the gas station?" Sascha asked.

"Yeah, that's where I'm headed. The one at the grocery store. I’m getting low on gas. I can maneuver a little better in this car, I think. Plus, with other onlookers, maybe the driver won’t pursue this."

He was still on Bluetooth with the 911 operator. "Hey, we're at the gas station at the grocery store and going to get gas, but the truck followed us into the gas station."

Before he could pull up next to a pump, the truck rear-ended him, sending him crashing into the gas station booth where the gas attendant was sitting. The truck drove up on top of the back of his car.

The car’s engine began to smoke. "Get out! Get out!" Sascha screamed. She threw open the passenger door and jumped out of the car.

Gregory found he couldn't get out of his side because the door was wedged in, and he hurried to climb over the console and out of the passenger’s side of the car.

The truck on top of the back of his car was revving, caught, trying to get unstuck.

Gregory grabbed Sascha, who was waiting for him to get out of the car, and ran away from the vehicle. His car’s engine was smoking and suddenly caught fire. It exploded in flames.

The driver of the truck was still frantically trying to get the truck free from the burning car while people gassing their cars were all moving their vehicles away from the pumps. The gas station attendant had left her "safe" place while the booth she was in was starting to burn.

A fire truck and police cars, their sirens blaring and lights flashing, tore into the gas station.

"The police and fire truck are here," Gregory told the 911 operator, and then they ended the call.

Police officers pointed their guns at the cab of the truck while Gregory and Sascha moved farther away from it. He wanted to take Sascha to the grocery store, just far enough away that they would be protected if bullets started flying.

Whoever the driver was didn't budge from the driver's seat but kept trying to dislodge the truck from his car as if he thought he could get away this time.