Rachel keeps driving, not trying to swerve out of the way because that sounds – bad.

The girl somehow remains fast asleep.

Already rolling at top speed, the green pick-up falls back a bit, being less weighty than the box truck and needing more of a head of steam before it can try again—but try again it does.

The world shakes—her vision blurred—but when it comes back... there's an 18-wheeler ahead of her, pulling on from Exit 23. The Hotrod Express.

"Jesus Christ, the kid was telling the truth!" Eddie's voice echoes from her C.B. "We've got a smash-up on I-455! Someone's trying to run the Cuddlebear Convoy off the road!—okay. Jonesy, get a bear on your ass, blow through a speed trap if you gotta. Pollock, I want you on your LD with the Department of Safety, tell them there's about to be a pretty damn huge accident. I'm going after that sunofabitch."

"What the hell? Eddie, you're serious about this?' Jonesy replies, confused.

"The brat's a trucker. Whatever else she is, she's behind the wheel so she's one of us—and you know damn well we DO NOT TOLERATE people screwing with truckers," Eddie says. "Now get on it! Kid—don't reply by radio, focus on your driving—I'm just ahead of you. Here's what we do. When I give the signal you get into the left lane, fast. I'm gonna get in the right lane and jam my brakes. You get in front of me in the center and I'll bitchslap that guy with my trailer. Honk once if you're ready."

Rachel hesitates again – checks the mirror – but then honks, once.

The other truck's headlights blink once—

She swerves to the left, going to the left lane and readying to go around the truck in front –

The Hotrod Express seems to shoot backwards, from a relativity standpoint. It cuts through the wall of rain, a wall of steel and wheels that dwarfs Rachel's little box truck by far...

Eddie deftly maneuvers a few tons of metal. The green truck tries to avoid head-on collision, and does so—but not by enough. The front of the vehicle clips against Eddie's tail, smashing out one headlight, sending it into a spin—

She looks away from it, checks out the road in front of her to make sure she's not at risk of hitting anything, then glances back.

It works. Rachel's going to survive. Insurance premiums are going to go up, Eddie might get in trouble, but she'll survive and so will the girl. Whoever that freak is, whatever he wants, this is the end of—

Two headlights.

Three.

Four.

Five.

A whirling mass of headlights and chrome, twirling and twisting, rolling along the highway like a cartwheeling pile of shrapnel.

She hears one word over her C.B.: "PICASSO—!" Eddie calls out, in warning—before static cuts him off.

Fuck.

She does not know that she can get away – stupid vehicle won't go any faster – and the truck was already gaining on her –

She tries the radio. "Hello?"

The car/driver/picasso tears through Eddie's trailer like a whirling ball of knives through metal butter. His 18-wheeler splits in half, a jagged slice carved right through the middle. The back half careens away and disintegrates—the front half ever so slowly teeters over, until his cab's sliding sideways along the highway. Shattered glass, twisted metal...

...and an unliving monster of shattered glass and twisted metal continuing to give chase to Rachel's truck, eager to get at the young cargo inside. Freed from the limitations of physics and the internal combustion engine, the picasso of hard iron can skim across the rain-slick road, gaining incredible speed. She only has seconds left to live.

hey

let me help

"If you can do anything sure but how the fuck –"

The words are coming from the teddy bear she'd brought with her, on the dashboard. The bear Grandma Scarlett gave her, her own personal teddy, no extra delivery required. It's talking to her now, its head flopped to the other side, to look her square in the eye. Probably just a random confluence of the truck rocking back and forth. Probably.

throw me at the shabby man, the bear says. pick me up and throw me. i'll die. i'm sad about that. but this way, you'll live, and can help the nice girl in dreams who loves us. i'll be happy with that. it's okay. i am your protector. throw me at him. i love you.

"Please whatever cosmic god is doing this know I'm not the cruel heartless protagonist." She shakes her head. "Fuck it –"

A moment later, she's rolled her window down and is throwing the teddy bear out behind her.

The doll tumbles through space, through the rain, trailing behind her truck at speed. It impacts with the twisted sphere of horror dead center.

The twisted sphere of horror turns back into an ordinary green pick-up, driven by a very surprised-looking murderer. Because the truck has re-manifested itself upside down and at a strange angle.

With a horrific sound, the truck cartwheels off the road, spinning end over end as physics takes control of the situation. The last Rachel sees of it, it's smashed into a tree line by the side of the highway, and is gone in the darkness of night.

Right now she has no idea what to do but keep driving.

The CB comes back to life.

"Kid? Are you still alive, kid? Are you there?" Eddie's voice says.

"I'm here," she says. "Um, I – the –" She bites her lip, trying not to cry. "It's over I think?"

"Good—then can someone send a goddamn ambulance because I'm losing blood fast and probably broke something."

The radio explodes with conversation, all the other truckers relieved to hear Rachel was okay and sending each other instructions and coordinating pretty well at all that. She's one of them, now, and Eddie'll be having none of it from any jokers.

"I called emergency services, earlier," she says, when she gets the chance. "I don't know if they're bringing an ambulance…"

And indeed soon enough Eddie informs them there's an ambulance there and he's getting help over and out.

Should she, like, pull over… meet up somewhere… give a statement…

… Break down and cry quietly…?

Well she does have a small child sleeping on the passenger seat.

She does. But the child is sleeping and will probably not notice if Rachel breaks down and cries quietly.

… She should probably go give a statement and let the police know she has a child. If there are police available.

There probably are.

...nope. No police. Ambulance, yes, but no police anywhere.

She has absolutely no idea where she could possibly hand a child to, do the ambulance people look busy or —

— She could just say fuck it and hand the child to the orphanage.