“Make sure your seat belt is secured.”
“You are really going to do this.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to blow it.”
“I am going to blow it.”
Well, it’s not how I wanted to go, but I’ve had a good run. With a gulp I tighten my seat belt and brace myself for impact. The speedometer climbs higher and higher, reaching triple digits. Officers wave at us to slow down as the checkpoint comes into view.
“Hold on.” We approach a gap in the checkpoint where only a plywood caution barrier stands in our way. Jacks scramble toaction and aim their guns at us. Taylor sighs. “I wish Mason was here.”
Barreling through the barrier, it splinters and explodes around us, pummeling the windows. Taylor struggles to right the hurtling vehicle to the sound of screams and gunfire. Once she’s regained full control of the car, she keeps up the blistering speed.
“Stealthy,” I choke out between gasps. “They’ll never see us coming now.”
“We will ditch this car once we lose them.” She checks the rearview mirror, and, lo and behold, several Jacks are in hot pursuit of us. “You need to drive.”
“I’m what?”
“Drive. I cannot shoot and drive. Well, I can, but I probably should not.” Taylor steadies the wheel and reaches below her seat, jerking the mechanism and sliding it back as far as it will go. “Push your seat back and go underneath me. I go over, you go under.”
“Holy shit, you’re serious.”
Taylor climbs over the armrests and I try and turn into a spider, carefully maneuvering under her body to get into the driver’s seat. Once I’m there I take control of the car, nabbing the wheel to straighten us out. Taylor withdraws a gun from beneath my seat and cocks it. She rolls down her window and climbs out, sitting on the window’s edge.
She exchanges gunfire with the pursuing cars, ducking back in when they get a good bead on her. Bullets fly by, one of which shatters the back windshield. Taylor pops back out and fires again, and this time I watch as two cars careen into one another and tumble off the road. Taylor takes cover behind her seat, gathers ammo, and reloads her gun. This time when she shoots, it’s between us out the back windshield.
“Oh, geez, there’s a big bend in the road.” I look to her. “How do I take this?”
“Listen to me and concentrate. Do not slow down.”
“That goes against every survival instinct I have, but okay.”
“Trust me.” Taylor shoots out the back again and turns to me. “Keep on the throttle.” Out the front windshield, she narrows her eyes at the turn. “Good, you are doing fine. Keep us centered. Turn when I tell you.” I wait for her signal, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Now, turn hard. Keep on the gas.”
I sharply yank the steering wheel to the right and the car spins out behind us. Any wrong move and we will be upside down in a ditch. I have our lives in my hands. I should not. I am not qualified to hold any life in my hands. Not even a potted plant.
“Okay, counter-steer against the way the car is pulling us. Not as hard as before. Feel the balance.” Barely turning the wheel, we drift along the bend and squish against the side of the car. Taylor fires off more rounds, causing my ears to ring almost as loud as the popping noises behind us.
“Straighten out,” she says calmly. “And you can let off the gas. Don’t brake.”
I gladly let off the gas as I straighten the car on the road, sweaty palms gripping the wheel as tight as I can. Taylor slides her gun back beneath the seat and sits forward. “We lost them. You can stop if you want.”
“Yes, I want. I very much want.”
The car stops in the center of the road, and I fling off my seat belt and storm out. My heart is either going to give out or burst from my chest, and either of those deaths are a welcome reprieve from the fear. I pace along the side of the road, adrenaline and anger coursing through my veins.
Screams fill my lungs but they don’t come out. Instead, I emit a frustrated groan into my palms. Around the bend, the remainsof the cars giving us chase smolder. Their tires flat against the ground, and at least one body hangs out of a passenger door. Souls who’ll go no farther than this desolate stretch of road. I pity them, and I envy them.
Unnecessary frenzy doubles my heart rate and churns my stomach. I close my eyes and block out the world. Let the fear pass through me. I scour the road for objects to name. Car. Fire. Trees. Asphalt. Painted lines. Our car. Taylor.
Taylor. Instead of running laps or some other obsessive behavior, she’s slumped in the passenger seat, facing out.
Cautiously, I advance from the side, I find her breathing heavily, head hung between her knees. My boots skip the gravel in warning of my approach, and I round in front of her and crouch down. When she finally flicks her eyes up at me, they’re filled with helplessness and despair. Her sadness is so pervasive it seeps through my pores and arrests my heart. What I suspected in the hospital room is confirmed, much to my dismay. Even those with the strongest mental fortitude are not immune to the lasting horrors of war. The brand of battle is for life.
“Did you talk to anyone at the hospital about this?”
