Highway to - Well, You Know

Frank's eyelids were as heavy as his foot on the throttle, but he didn't dare slow down. The hypnotic effect of the snow streaking from the darkness into the twin beams of his lights was taking its toll.

It shouldn't have been there. The snow gate was closed at Rock Springs and no sane person would go around it at night on I-80 in a Wyoming blizzard. The white Blazer had been invisible in the wet, heavy snow that had drifted up to its roof.

There hadn't been time to react, much less stop the 65,000 pound beast Frank was driving. The SUV had barely offered any resistance to the plow on contact. It simply slid along the blade, then the wing, and dove into the deep borrow ditch, spraying an immense rooster tail of snow.

Frank had locked up the brakes, bringing his monstrous machine to a shuddering stop. Thoughts of arrest, conviction and imprisonment flooded his panicked mind as he sat, frozen, staring into the oversize side mirror. In the next instant, a bright bloom of flame had erupted in the blackness behind him.

Engine screaming, now miles from the accident site, the snowplow rushed forward with Frank in full flight response behind the wheel. He noticed far too late the gap that suddenly opened in the asphalt ahead. Leaping into the mouth of the chasm, the truck nosed over. As it fell, Frank could clearly see the eerie glow of brimstone far below.