Page 2 of Thin Lives

It was purposeful.

Calisto’s reaction time was off just by a fraction of a breath as he regained focus on the road ahead of him. Suddenly, it seemed like the dark interstate was empty, but for his car and that SUV just inches from his bumper.

He missed his exit because of the distraction.

“Shit,” he muttered.

Another one was coming, but not for another ten miles or so.

His right hand itched to leave the wheel, wanting to reach out to the side and grab his phone, and make just one call to the only person who mattered to him.

He didn’t dare loosen his grip.

Even the stars were hiding in the sky.

He glanced into the mirror again, careful to avoid the direct glare of the high beams, and quickly noted how the SUV swerved to the left as if they were going to pass him. There was no room to pass with him being in the left lane as it was.

But the action of the SUV swerving was enough to make Calisto react out of nothing but instinct as he forced his own car to the right.

Maybe it was a little bit of hope, too.

Hope that whoever was behind him was no one he knew. Hope that whoever it was might be just another angry, stupid fool like him that was driving too fast on a rainy, dark night.

Calisto’s hope didn’t last long.

He felt the tires slip on the slick pavement as he slid into the right-side lane. There was no stopping the unmistakable twist of the rear-end when his car began to slide sideways. No matter how hard he pushed the pedal or straightened the wheel to bring his car out of the beginning of a tailspin, he couldn’t do it.

He had already lost control.

Suddenly, time slowed.

It seemed appropriate.

Calisto had just a few seconds of suspended breath and waiting to reflect over his time and choices. There was no flash of life before his eyes—just the knowledge that he had been a part of this world once, and that in itself was a mark left behind.

But he was still sorry.

It was the sight of black to his left that made Calisto turn his head. His car was almost halfway turned as the SUV came to pass at his side.

Hope left as the passenger window rolled down. Through the squiggly lines of water running down his window, Calisto could only see black staring back at him.

Black and a flash of brushed silver.

The plume of light was instant, and shocking. In the background, he caught a glimpse of the profile of the person shooting at him, but he was already reacting.

Calisto jerked the wheel of his car at the same time, forcing his car into a harder, faster spin that would probably turn his car over. He heard the bullet shatter glass a second before the roof of his car met pavement.

He wasn’t buckled in.

His shoulder hit the door, his leg crunched under a snapping wheel, and his head hit metal.

Calisto’s night turned even blacker.

Like someone had set a firecracker off beside his bed, Calisto jerked out of the nightmare with a shout dying in his throat. He blinked at the bedroom staring back at him, it was lit just enough by the bedside lamp for him to recognize the familiar space as his own.

The nightmare was always the same.

It never changed.