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Mishka’s eyebrow quirks as if he can read my thoughts, his gaze intense, and rather than giving him the victory, I turn my attention to buckling my seat belt and look out the window.
The car rolls away from the lodge a moment later, and we’re all doused in darkness as we make our way back home along the winding forest-lined road. The car is entirely silent, lulling me into a sleepy stupor as I prop my chin on my palm, my elbow on the door, and watch the scenery slip by outside my window.
Eventually, the trees give way to the inky black sky as we climb a sloping mountainside. Then we enter a tunnel. When we come back out into the open once again, it almost feels like I take flight, the ground dropping out beneath my view as I enter the sky. The thought brings me out of my waking dream, putting me squarely back in the car as my stomach drops out from under me.
And immediately, I’m doused in confusion. Something isn’t right. I tense as we slow rather abruptly, and I turn my eyes to look out the windshield. From the corner of my eye, I catch Mishka’s frown intensifying as his shoulders tense.
“Why are we stopping?” I ask, my heart kicking up a notch.
We’re in the middle of nowhere, late at night, and the driver has no reason to stop as far as I can see. Goosebumps rise on my bare arms as I get a tingling sense of foreboding at the base of my spine.
“Your father’s car stopped,” the driver says, his uncertainty apparent in his tone. “I’m not supposed to pass him.”
“I’ll go see what’s going on,” the man in the passenger seat offers. Opening his door, he steps out into the darkness that presses in on all sides. As he closes it behind him, the sharp, unmistakable crack of a gunshot splits the quiet night.
I gasp, flinching in my seat as the guard’s body slams back against the car before dropping out of sight. Then the bullets start to ping wildly against the car. Brilliant flashes come from somewhere up on the hill as several people open fire.
I scream as more gunfire lights the road in front of my father’s car. They’re blocking us from going forward—that must be why my father’s car stopped. And though I can’t see what’s going on ahead of my car, I’m certain it can’t be good.
“It’s an ambush!” bellows the driver.
Glass shatters behind me, and I scream, ducking instinctually at the sickening thud that follows.
“Blyat!”
I glance back as the man in the seat behind mine leans over his dead comrade to peer out the window. Gun in hand, he fires off several rounds in the direction of the hill that lights up like the Fourth of July.
The sound of gunshots reverberates through the car, making my ears ring and my head throb.
All the while, the driver throws our car into reverse, sending us back toward the cover of the tunnel behind us. Terrified not just for my life but that of my family in the car ahead of us, I peer around the driver’s seat with wide eyes, hoping to find them alive.
That’s when a bullet cracks the windshield, and I hear another sickening thud as metal pierces flesh.
“Get down!” Mishka growls, his strong arm pulling me back and down onto the bench seat we share as his body covers mine.
But it doesn’t matter now because I saw the bullet enter our driver’s skull. He’s dead. And as he slumps forward lifelessly, his shoulder turns the wheel, changing the direction of our quick retreat.
The back of the car slams into the guardrail, jerking me forward against my seat belt.
Then I’m airborne once again. Only this time, for real.
My heart stops in my chest at the momentary sense of weightlessness.
We plummet backward down the steep hillside, snapping trees that get in the way with horrible snapping sounds.
We hit the slope with astounding force, and it launches the guard who was shooting at our attackers through the shattered window. He’s gone in an instant, thrown from the vehicle to what I can only imagine is his death. Still, I think I can hear his scream for one chilling moment before it’s cut short definitively.
Then the Escalade’s trajectory shifts into a horrible roll.
The motion whips me around like a ragdoll, completely obliterating my sense of equilibrium as it turns me over like a rock in a tumbling machine. And though I try to find something, anything, to grab on to, I have no clue in which direction I should turn.
My stomach flips at the horrible, dizzying ride down the hill, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I scream once again. I’m so disoriented, I feel like my brain itself is spinning, and all I can think is that this is it. This is how I’m going to die.
The car jerks as it hits the ground once more.
I’m whipped toward my very solid door, the inertia leaving me entirely out of control.
Where are the airbags? I just have time to think.
