[Celuien]

Panakeia sped up the ramp to M25, fighting the blinding sleet. By now, she had learned to use the pedals in her Cruiser quite efficiently. She was particularly fond of the accelerator. It’s simply exhilarating. The thrill of it all. She pressed down on the pedal and merged onto the Interstate with a zoom, ignoring the fact that the coefficient of friction for bald rubber tires on an icy road was roughly equivalent to cotton socks on a newly waxed floor. The Cruiser slid wildly, colliding with a row of strange objects resembling gigantic orange ice-cream cones. Wonder what those were for.

The road was oddly quiet for a Mordorian highway. Too quiet. There wasn’t another driver in sight, save for a few slow moving trucks containing more of the odd orange hats (the best explanation Panakeia could generate, although she was still puzzled by their placement at the roadside) and squads of orcs. Something had to happen.

And it did. Suddenly, the weather changed. Instead of the lashing sleet, Panakeia’s windshield was now hammered by flying sand. She couldn’t see a thing until, rounding a bend, she found the other drivers. Cars were at a standstill behind a line of the orange hats. “Your Taxes at Work. Road Under Construction For Your Safety and Convenience.” Too late, Panakeia slammed her foot against the brake. She swerved off to the side of the road. Four loud pops informed her that her tires had blown out. The Cruiser came to an unsteady stop at the edge of the highway, just in front of an enormous billboard. “Paint your game face on.” Panakeia stared at the sign, puzzled, and then set the bizarre message down to the poor taste in advertisements that seemed to reign in the local industry.

She walked around her Cruiser. Four flats. Now what? Bert exited the Cruiser, pointing his kamura at the flattened tires and asking Panakeia what she planned to do next. Ignoring his running commentary, Panakeia walked ahead in hopes of finding assistance. Maybe there’s a service station nearby.

Then she noticed that she was not the only driver in distress. A tiny road paralleling the highway ran on the other side of the billboard. Another Cruiser, its front end crushed, sat at the sign’s foot. And a man lay under the car, his face covered with sand. Looks like trouble. Best not to get involved. She spun on her heel to leave…and ran straight into Bert.

“Next time on Escape from Mordor. Will Panakeia play the hero and rescue the unknown stranger? Or will she turn a blind eye and continue her own journey, ruthless as ever? Find out tomorrow, same time, same station.”

The word ruthless stung Panakeia like the blowing sand around her. Looks like there’s no choice now. I’m on kamura. What would my fans say? She stared at Bert, the expression of one who has been unjustly slighted on her face.

“Of course I’m going to help. How could I leave anyone stranded in this storm? Come on.” She hurried up to the disabled Cruiser and tapped the unconscious man on the shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

He awoke with a start. “Begone! Thou gleeking beetle-headed pumpion!” He shook the sand out of his face.

Panakeia was shocked to recognize another member of the Offending Party. What in Middle-earth could have happened to Valde? Aloud she said, “A fine way to welcome me! I came to help you, but if that’s the way the wind blows, so be it.” She started away.

Valde called to her. “No, forgive me. I was dreaming.” He stared at Panakeia as if attempting to recall something. “Panakeia, yes?”

“Well, that’s more like it.” She brightened. “That’s right. Nice to see you, Valde.” Panakeia turned her profile to the kamura, making sure to put her better side in full view. “Need a ride?”

Valde noted Panakeia’s posturing for the kamura. He wasn’t sure he liked this amateur putting on a show. But he was in a spot. “Yes, I do. If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all.” She noticed the kamura man trapped in Valde’s Cruiser and pointed him out to Bert, who quickly went to free his colleague while Valde and Panakeia went to survey the damage to her vehicle. They were shortly joined by Bert and the kamura man, who seemed shaken more than hurt.

Panakeia appealed to them. “Now’s the time to make yourselves useful. Change the tires.” Bert nodded and set to work, but the kamura man gaped at her. “That’s not in my contract.”

“Well, it’s not in my contract to take you with me. Go on and help Bert, or you can stay here.” Grumbling something about temperamental stars giving too many orders, he joined Bert at the back of Panakeia’s Cruiser.

Half an hour later, just as a thunderstorm started to drench the ground with rain, the four of them were seated in the Cruiser, waiting in a long line of traffic on the highway.