A daylight murder on National Highway

The flickering neon sign of the roadside motel cast long, eerie shadows across the deserted parking lot. A lone truck driver, a grizzled man named Frank, sat hunched over his lukewarm coffee, the fatigue of the long haul etched on his face. He was just one more weary traveler seeking a few hours of respite on this desolate stretch of National Highway 1.

Outside, the wind howled like a banshee, rattling the windows of the diner. Rain lashed against the glass, blurring the lights of the occasional passing vehicle into fleeting streaks of color. Frank glanced at the clock – 2:37 am. He'd been pushing his luck, driving longer than he should have, but the lure of reaching his destination by dawn had kept him going.

Suddenly, a piercing scream sliced through the night. Frank jumped, his heart pounding. He rushed to the window, peering out into the storm. A figure, barely visible in the downpour, was running towards the motel, a dark shape stumbling in pursuit.

The figure, a young woman, her clothes torn and soaked, burst through the diner door, gasping for breath. "Help me!" she pleaded, her eyes wide with terror. "He's going to kill me!"

Before Frank could react, the second figure appeared in the doorway. A hulking shadow with a glint of steel in his hand. The woman cowered behind Frank, her cries echoing in the small diner. Adrenaline surged through Frank's veins. He grabbed a heavy cast iron skillet from behind the counter, his years of hauling freight giving him unexpected strength.

The intruder lunged, the knife flashing in the dim light. Frank swung the skillet, connecting with a sickening thud. The attacker stumbled back, momentarily stunned. The woman, seizing her chance, kicked out, catching the man off balance. He crashed into a table, sending dishes shattering across the floor.

Frank, fueled by a primal instinct to protect, charged. The fight was brutal and short. The skillet connected again and again, until the assailant lay motionless on the floor.

Silence descended, broken only by the woman's sobs and the pounding rain. Frank, his hands shaking, checked for a pulse on the attacker. Nothing. He was dead.

The woman, her breathing ragged, looked at Frank with a mixture of fear and gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered. "You saved my life."

Frank, still reeling from the violence, simply nodded. He reached for the phone, his calloused fingers trembling as he dialed for the police. The rain continued to fall, washing away the blood and the terror of the night, leaving behind a chilling reminder of the darkness that lurked along the national highway.