When fate plays its hand

Miranda’s mind raced as she pieced together what had just happened. She remembered the sudden flash of high beams flooding her vision, which left her momentarily blinded. Instinct took over, and she slammed on the brakes in a panic.

Then, the crash happened. She was certain she’d hit something–an object, not a person. But what was it?

Her headlights had illuminated the road ahead. She was sure it had been clear, and there hadn’t been any obstacles. An accident shouldn’t have happened unless whatever she’d hit had appeared out of nowhere.

If she ruled out something supernatural, there was only one possibility–it had been placed there on

purpose.

Miranda stayed in the car for three minutes and waited to see if anyone would approach. But nobody showed up, and there were no passing vehicles. Frowning, she thought, “Maybe I’m just imagining things.”

After another two minutes of silence, she decided to step out and take a look. Before opening the door, she grabbed her phone. After a moment’s thought, she reached into the glove compartment and took out a small folding knife that fit in her hand.

As she stepped out, she scanned the surroundings. The streetlights overhead were broken, which explained why that part of the road was darker than the rest.

She crouched to check the car’s front end and found a fist–sized scratch on the bumper. Then she looked at the object she’d hit–a rusted, square metal box with welding marks along its edges. It had dents, though someone had clearly tried to hammer them out. The repairs were crude but effective.

Miranda stared at it and looked puzzled. Why would there be a metal box in the middle of the road at night?.

It almost seemed as if it had been placed there on purpose and was waiting for her to Everything about the situation felt off, and she couldn’t help but grow more alert.

o crash into it.

She quickly took pictures of the scene for insurance purposes and turned to head back to the car.

Just then, her phone rang–it was Sam. She remembered she’d accidentally hung up earlier, and he must

be worried about her.

Just as she was about to answer, movement from the brush beyond the guardrail caught her eye, and three men emerged.

Alarmed, Miranda rushed to the car and reached for the door handle as she tried to get back inside.

But those men were faster. One leaped over the guardrail, slammed his hand against her door, and shoved it shut.

Her hand was still on the handle. She pulled hard, but he didn’t budge.

“You’re blocking my car door,” Miranda said calmly as she met his eyes.

Now that they were closer, she got a better look. Three men–two middle–aged and one elderly–all had broad faces and droopy eyes. They looked alike, likely a father and his sons.

The middle–aged man holding the door was tall and slender, almost skeletal. He sneered. “Think you can

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just hit something and drive away? Not happening.”

“Exactly!” said the second middle–aged man, who was shorter and plump with a round face.

The two exchanged glances, then turned to the elderly man. As if on cue, the elderly man suddenly rushed to the front of her car and wailed dramatically.

He dropped to his knees and held the metal box with trembling hands. “Oh, no! I’ve completely ruined the Langston family legacy. The heirloom–destroyed because of me! How can I ever face my dead parents? I …I might as well die!”

“Dad, don’t say that! This isn’t your fault! Why should you be the one to blame?” The plump man, Bram Langston, hurried to support his father, who seemed ready to collapse.

On the contrary, the slender man, Tobin Langston, kept a firm grip on the door handle and prevented Miranda from getting back inside the car.

Bram continued, “You should be blaming her, Dad. She’s the one who wrecked our family heirloom with her car. She’s got to make it right. She needs to pay up now!”

just hit something and drive away? Not happening.”

“Exactly!” said the second middle–aged man, who was shorter and plump with a round face.

The two exchanged glances, then turned to the elderly man. As if on cue, the elderly man suddenly rushed to the front of her car and wailed dramatically.

He dropped to his knees and held the metal box with trembling hands. “Oh, no! I’ve completely ruined the Langston family legacy. The heirloom–destroyed because of me! How can I ever face my dead parents? I … I might as well die!”

“Dad, don’t say that! This isn’t your fault! Why should you be the one to blame?” The plump man, Bram Langston, hurried to support his father, who seemed ready to collapse.

On the contrary, the slender man, Tobin Langston, kept a firm grip on the door handle and prevented Miranda from getting back inside the car.

Bram continued, “You should be blaming her, Dad. She’s the one who wrecked our family heirloom with her car. She’s got to make it right. She needs to pay up now!”