You’re on your way home from work after
having just finished working a double shift. It’s late and the interstate is completely
abandoned, no cars visible either in front or behind you. It’s only about a twenty minute drive but
you know you’re going to struggle to stay awake, even in this old beater that shakes
and rattles as it travels down the long, straight road. The rattling causes a piece of tape to fall
off of the gauge cluster, revealing a lit “check engine” light beneath. You grab the tape and put it back over the
light, covering it once again. There, good as new. You turn on the radio and it comes to life
for just a moment before dying. You slap the radio and it blinks to life for
just a second before dying again. You’re about to slap it again when you notice
lights in your rearview mirror. And more than just a pair of headlights, it’s
a whole wall of lights. They’re getting closer and quickly too. Before you know it, they look like they’re
barreling down on you. But then, they suddenly go black, blinking
out of existence. “Did that trucker just turn off his lights?”
you think but you have no time to dwell on the thought because the sound of an explosion
suddenly causes you to scream in fright. It sounds like lightning has struck just inches
from your car. The inside of your car suddenly lights up
with fire and smoke. Has your engine exploded? What’s going on? No, it’s not coming from you, it’s coming
from… next to you. You don’t know where it appeared from, but
next to your car is now a massive semi. At least you think it was a semi. The smoke is so thick it makes you cough and
you quickly can’t see. You lose control of the car and slam on the
brakes, but you can feel yourself going off the road. As the smoke finally clears up inside of your
car you can see… the moon. It’s at this moment that you realize you’re
no longer right side up as the car flips and tumbles through the air. You open your eyes to find that you’re still
buckled into your seat. You release the seat belt and drop to the
roof of the car. You crawl out to find that your car slid to
a stop, upside down, several meters from the road. You look around, and far off in the distance
you can see it, the semi that ran you off the road, driving at an almost impossible
rate of speed off into the night. You look back at your car, which is completely
totaled, and wonder what you’re going to do now. It’s late the next morning when you finally
get back home. The police did not seem to believe your story
about the magically appearing semi-truck causing your single car accident, but they did at
least give you a ride back home after administering a sobriety test. You enter your small studio apartment and
look around at the sparsely decorated room, wondering how you’re going to pay rent next
month if you can’t get to your job. You go to the fridge and open the door, but
there’s nothing inside except for a carton of milk that’s well past its expiration
date. You open it and take a whiff but this is too
far gone even for your state of desperation. You close the fridge and lean on the door,
trying to figure out what you’re going to do. You’re so deep in thought that you barely
notice the mail being pushed through the slot in your door. You decide to go pick it up, even though you
know it will only be bad news. And you were right, bills, bills, and more
bills. First, second, and final notices. You wonder if you’ve ever had a piece of
good news show up through that slot in your door. What’s this though? The last piece of mail is a battered and folded
envelope that looks like it’s been used and repurposed many times. It feels thick and heavy, but there’s no
information on it at all, it’s completely blank. You open the envelope and your eyes light
up. Inside… is money. It’s a stack of crinkled, old bills, different
denominations all in a random order, but there’s a lot of them. There must be over a thousand dollars here! And there’s something else too. A note. You unfold the creased and dirty piece of
paper to see a simple message that looks like it was hastily written in black crayon. All the note says is “SORRY BOUT LAST NIGHT!! HOPE THIS HELPS COMPADRE.” You flip the note over and look in the envelope
again but there’s nothing else other than the wad of cash. The apology note may have been unsigned, but
you weren’t the first to receive something like it, and you would be far from the last. The SCP Foundation, though, knows exactly
who sent it. This was a message from SCP-3899, also known
as… The Night Hauler. SCP-3899 is a black, Peterbilt 379 semi-trailer
truck with an attached trailer. But as you no doubt have determined, this
is no ordinary truck. SCP-3899 has the anomalous effect of appearing
seemingly at random, upon stretches of highway within the continental United States and usually
at a considerable distance away from any other motorists. The truck will manifest already in motion,
traveling within roughly three kilometers per hour of the posted speed limit, but it
will not stay at this speed. Once SCP-3899 has appeared, it will almost
immediately begin accelerating, and the speeds it can reach are truly staggering. Despite appearing to be a normal truck, SCP-3899
is able to reach impossibly fast speeds, and it’s been observed traveling at over 420
kilometers per hour, or 267 miles per hour. As SCP-3899 flies down the road, it will attempt
to avoid other vehicles and roadside objects, and has even shown the ability to displace
itself across short distances, which it seems to mostly do in order to avoid collisions
with vehicles. SCP-3899 will disappear and then immediately
appear somewhere else, though always within 300 meters of its last location. This reappearance will be accompanied by a
thick cloud of dense, black smoke that lab tests have revealed to consist of a mixture
of diesel fuel combustion byproducts, volcanic ash, and trace amounts of unidentified human
blood. The anomalous truck will only appear at night,
and will demanifest completely once it encounters direct sunlight… or if it causes an automotive
accident, which it has done plenty of times. In one particular incident, undercover SCP
Foundation agents working within the Virginia State Department of Transportation became
aware of reports of a large black truck appearing on a particular stretch of interstate that
had caused multiple accidents. They were able to track down and locate one
of the victims of these incidents, a woman named Martha Lewis, who they soon brought
in for questioning under the guise of it being a police investigation. The agents questioned Martha on her experience,
and she explained her own interaction with the black, semi. She said: “It's all still clear in my head. I'm driving down I-64 on my way home and the
sun had just gone down. There's no other cars and I’m about to take
my exit, when out of nowhere this huge truck just… appears, right next to me. There was a bunch of smoke, like it was on
fire or something, and the sound was like a bolt of lightning had just struck right
next to me. It all happened so fast. All the smoke clouded my windshield and before
I could really process what was happening, I was plowing right through a concrete divider
and into some trees. I think I passed out. When I came to, there were paramedics and
cops. They took me to the hospital.” The agents asked if anything happened after
that and she said there was one other odd thing. When she left the hospital and went home there
was a letter waiting for her, but it didn’t have a return address. Inside was a large amount of US currency in
a random assortment of denominations, with many of the bills appearing wrinkled and worn. There was a note in the envelope too which
read: IM SORRY. DIDNT MEAN NO HARM. FOR THE DAMAGES. GET Y'ALL A NEW RIG AND DRIVE ON!!! Later Foundation analysis of the document
revealed that the note was written with a piece of charcoal on non-anomalous notebook
paper. Now you’re probably asking yourself the
same question that SCP researchers had. Just who is the driver of SCP-3899 that apparently
wrote this odd note and also paid for the damages they caused. The operator of the truck, which has been
designated as SCP-3899-1, is a very mysterious figure. Observers who have been able to get a brief
glimpse inside of the truck as it moves past them at a rapid speed have described the driver
as looking only like a silhouette of a slightly overweight male wearing the type of headwear
that is typically referred to as a “trucker hat.” Some reports have also alluded to the presence
of what appears to be smoky, tentacle-like appendages within the cab, though all further
efforts to determine the exact physical characteristics of 3899-1 have failed, as the truck has proved
resistant to any kind of outside scanning equipment. Most of what is known about the driver has
come in the form of direct communication, though not in the form of interviews or any
other sort of face to face interaction. No, while SCP-3899-1 has never been willing
to stop and have a discussion with Foundation agents, it does seem more than willing to
speak with anyone and everyone in its immediate vicinity over Citizens band, or CB radio,
which is a type of shortwave person to person communication system that is popular with
many long haul truckers. In one particular instance, an SCP Foundation
helicopter happened to be traveling above a stretch of road where SCP-3899 appeared. An agent within the helicopter began communicating
with the anomalous trucker, first asking for their callsign, to which SCP-3899-1 replied: I'M THE NIGHT HAULER AND I'M COMIN' IN HOT! I KNOW Y'ALL CAN FEEL THIS SPEED! After adjusting their volume to compensate
for 3899-1’s loud response, the agent asked if the entity could explain where they came
from. 3899-1 answered with: I ROLL WITH THE WIND! MY WHEELS SING SWEET LOVE TO THE BLACKTOP! I'M FILLIN' Y'ALL'S VEINS WITH ROAD SALT AND
EXHAUST AND THE SMELL-A BURNIN' RUBBER! AIN'T NO BOTHER WHERE I'M FROM, WE ALL GOTTA
LIVE FOR THE RIDE AND DIE FOR NOTHIN'! “I see,” the agent responded, before asking
“Are you… ‘hauling’ anything in particular?” SCP-3899-1 came back with: Ain't you listenin', girl? Are you seein' this? What I got is pure rattlin' salvation, eighteen
wheels at a time! When y'all's roads is choked, when the ways
is blocked and y'all's speed is all dead and gone, I'm droppin' this load and we'll all
be drinkin' gas and breathin' smoke! The agent didn’t understand though, and
asked again who they were and what they wanted. 3899-1 replied: THIS IS FOR THE SOULS OF THE ROAD! FOR THE LONG NIGHTS AND DEAD ENGINES AND EVERYONE
TRY'NA PUT THAT HORIZON UNDER THEIR WHEELS! I AM THE ROAR OF HOT IRON! I AM SCREAMING FREEDOM! I AM THE DEATH OF ALL BARRIERS! THIS RIG AIN'T GOT NO QUIT, HONEY! I DO NOT STOP! CAN YOU FEEL THE RUMBLE? CAN YOU SEE THE FIRE AND SMELL THE BURN? I KNOW YOU CAN, I CAN TASTE YOUR HEART AND
I KNOW YOU WANT TO FLY APART WITH ME! When the agent began to answer in the affirmative
that they could indeed “feel the rumble,” seemingly caught up in the excitement of SCP-3899-1’s
proclamation, the investigation was quickly halted and the helicopter broke off from its
pursuit. Following this incident, the potential memetic
influence of communicating with 3899-1 is under investigation. SCP-3899, being currently uncontainable by
any conventional means, has been classified as keter. Upon reports of it manifesting, all CB radio
transmissions emanating from the truck are monitored by nearby Foundation listening posts
for attempted contact by SCP-3899 to civilian recipients. Any individuals who were contacted are to
be administered Class B amnestics, as are any eyewitnesses of the truck itself. All information about SCP-3899 is to be suppressed,
and a disinformation campaign is active to make all reports of a mysterious truck that
can appear out of nowhere and move at impossible speeds seem like nothing more than an urban
legend. Just what is SCP-3899? Is the driver some sort of anomalous ghost? Or perhaps an old, eldritch god, a manifestation
of freedom and perpetual motion given physical form as a diesel powered behemoth on the highway. Perhaps the answer to that question… is
up to you. Now go and watch another entry from the files
of Dr. Bob, like SCP 973 Smokey, for another tale of an automotive anomaly with its own
very distinct set of goals. And make sure you subscribe and turn on notifications,
so you don’t miss a single anomaly, as we delve further and further into the SCP Foundation’s
classified archives.
