Katie struggled to see. She drove North on I95, not quite sure how far she wanted to go down this particular highway.
The rain pelted her windshield, while the visions wouldn’t abate.
Katie quickly came to realize what the problem was: her visions kept changing. She would avoid one death, only to find herself getting killed another way.
Back at the restaurant, her visions had been of a man in a suit strangling her. She’d started driving down A1A, when the visions had shifted: then, her visions involved the man in the suit driving the wrong way down the street, slamming his car straight into hers.
Then she’d gotten on the highway, planning to stop when night fell so that she could get some rest and wait the rain out. The vision of her getting strangled in bed made her abandon that idea.
Driving down I95, she still saw her future death: this one involved her slowing down as the sun was rising. The man in the suit caught up to her. His car would drive hers off the road. The crash would kill her.
She tried focusing on the present. The night was still pretty young, so she had time. But she didn’t have much of a plan. It seemed that no matter what she did, this man knew how to find her.
No other choice, Katie thought.
She whipped out her phone and dialed Prometheus’s number.