The desert wind scorched the asphalt as Jonas Rivera gripped the steering wheel of his eighteen-wheeler, hauling thirty tons of steel coils down the infamous curves of La Rumorosa. The morning sun had already burned away the fog, leaving the canyon glimmering with heat that shimmered off the road like a mirage. Jonas squinted through the windshield, feeling the vibrations in the cab, an uneasy reminder that something was off.
Pinned to the dashboard, a small photograph of his daughter, Ilin, smiled up at him. Her tiny hands clutched a stuffed rabbit in the picture, and her eyes seemed impossibly large and trusting. “Don’t forget me, Dad,” she had said the night before, pressing the pendant into his palm. Jonas touched it reflexively now, trying to calm his racing heart.
The first signs of danger were subtle. A slight trembling in the steering column, a whisper of a vibration through his boots. Then the pedal sank beneath his foot with no resistance. He hit it again. Soft. Again. Softer. He tried engine braking, shifting down through the gears, but the trailer surged behind him, a metal beast intent on dragging him into the ravine below.