Without Warning

Part 1

A woman in denim leads a fidgety black horse toward a barn as a bolt of lightning rips the night sky. A rumble of thunder in the distance quickens her pace.

BANG! A burst of wind slams the barn door. The horse cries out, then jerks out of the woman's grasp, and bolts. As the spooked animal gallops wildly across the field, she shouts, "Buddy! Come back!"

On a rural road, the headlights of a sedan cut through the blackness.

Inside the car, Mike, a prosperous middle-aged man drives. His pretty wife, Katrina yawns in the passenger seat. They're on their way home from a swanky awards banquet and dressed for the occasion.

The BMW's GPS says, "In fifty feet, turn right."

Mike squints into the darkness and says, "Where? Do you see an intersection?"

Katrina replies, "Pull over."

"Where? We're in the middle of—"

"Anywhere. It's—"

She's interrupted by a horrific collision. The black horse rockets up onto the hood.

The windshield implodes.

Katrina screams.

Airbags deploy.

Mike flails for the steering wheel.

The car swerves wildly, rolls, then flips onto its roof.

The horse struggles to its feet, stumbles into the night, broken and disoriented.

Katrina dangles upside down, unconscious. Her seatbelt holds her in place, creases her cheek.

Blood and broken glass are everywhere.

Mike forces his eyes open and cries out, "Katrina!"

She's not moving. Blood drips from her nose and mouth.

"Kat!" he sobs.

Semi-conscious, Mike drags himself out of the vehicle on his belly onto the roadway.

With a collapsed lung he can barely manage, "Help!"

Utter blackness. There's no one for miles.

Mike crawls toward the passenger side, but is stopped by excruciating pain. The broken end of his femur has torn through his flesh, extending through his pants.

He rolls onto his back in anguish. Desperation clouds his eyes.

Headlights approach. A ratty old sedan slows at the accident scene.

Mike is stirred by a murmur of voices. "Thank God," he wheezes.

A man kneels beside Mike on the roadway.

Mike gasps, "My wife... She's still in there."

Blinded by the sedan's headlights and the blood running into his eyes, Mike can't distinguish the man's face.

Mike pleads, "Please help her."

The man rolls Mike onto his side. Mike grunts, then passes out.

A young woman slips out of the sedan, creeps to the side of Mike's vehicle, lost in the darkness.

The man rifles through Mike's bloodied suit jacket, finds Mike's wallet, then sorts through the assortment of credit cards.

Mike's eyes flutter open. He makes a weak attempt to regain control of his wallet.

The man easily evades Mike's uncoordinated swipe and says, "Wolf's gotta eat, too."

He stuffs Mike's wallet into his pocket.

In a hoarse whisper, Mike begs, "Please..." He sees nothing but undefined silhouettes retreating into the sedan.

Mike gasps, "No. Don't leave us."

The engine revs. The sedan speeds away.