As usual, I do not own Knight Rider. That privilege belongs to Glen A. Larson. I only own Carlee, Michaela, Dr. Stalov, and the idea for this story.
"K.I.T.T.?" Carlee slurred as she swam up out of unconsciousness. It took her a moment to piece together what had happened.
They'd been driving along the deserted dessert road, minding their own business, when a power pole had toppled on them. The live wire had draped across the shiny, black T-top, sending electrical current through the powerful TransAm.
Carlee had lost control, and they'd spun around several times. Her head must have come into contact with the driver side window, knocking her out. Any other time, the Passive Laser Restraint would have kept her from contacting the window, so the electricity must have knocked K.I.T.T. off-line.
Looking around, Carlee took stock of the situation. They had spun clear of the fallen wire and pole, as she could see it several yards away through the windshield. The wire was popping and jumping on the road.
"K.I.T.T.?" Carlee tried again, this time thumping her fist against the dashboard. "Come on, buddy!" concern began to creep into her voice.
She tried turning the key in the ignition to see if the car would at least start. No such luck!
Carlee popped the hood and got out of the car. A hot dessert wind blew grit and her dark shoulder length hair into her face. She impatiently brushed the loose strands out of her face, then raised K.I.T.T.'s hood.
She was in the process of looking everything over when she felt a sharp pain in the side of her neck.
Carlee whipped around, but it was already too late. The ground came up to meet her in a rush as she lost consciousness.