Marked Lanes, Watch the Skyway

The Florensa glides southbound across the failing blue skyway. Venci, Warren, and the vampire priest DJ sustain one shared urrrrr through the radio, the vibration threading beneath their argument as faulty lamps stutter over black ocean.

A huge winged gargoyle cuts across the lanes without warning, its stone-dark bulk blotting out the lamps. Cars brake and scatter; one spins into the tollway wall, locking the near lane in a shower of sparks.

Warren wrenches the Florensa into a dangerous swerve. The prayer fractures into static as the damaged tollway, oncoming headlights, and watched eastern span close around the car. The gargoyle climbs toward the bridge lights, leaving one blocked lane and a narrow opening toward Long Island.

Static spits from the radio, then briefly resolves into the gargoyle’s wingbeat and a distant toll scanner chirp. Warren fights the wheel while the Florensa skids toward the uncertain gap.

Venci plants one hand against the Florensa’s rattling dash and braces his shoulder behind Warren’s seat, anchoring himself as the car slews toward the narrow opening. His forearm scrapes hard against the cracked frame, raising a hot line of pain, but he holds steady.

The brace gives Warren the leverage to correct the skid. The Florensa shudders past the blocked lane, its tires gripping the blue-lit surface while sparks whip away behind them.

Above the eastern span, the gargoyle banks across the lamps, stone-dark wings beating against the failing atmosphere. The toll scanner chirps again, tracking the car’s passage through the gap.