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It’s not what I’m looking for, however, and I regret not choosing to take a little just for the experience.
My hands swipe around the depth of the compartment, but there’s nothing noteworthy inside. Damn it. Why does this feel like the most unfortunate coincidence of my life? The one person on the road who can rescue me has to be a dangerous criminal without a phone charger.
When I close the glove box, I decide to feel around the interior of the car for a charging cable. He has to have one somewhere. What kind of person doesn’t have a charger for their phone in their car? Does his phone have an infinite battery?
After I’ve sifted through the center console and fished around in the back seat, I reach down at my feet as a last resort. There’s no way he hasnothingin here.
When my hand touches more cold metal, I freeze.
I trace along the shape of the object until I realize that there’s been an even bigger gun at my feet this whole time. I was just so rigid for the whole ride here that I didn’t even realize there was something by my feet at all.
I knew this guy was trouble, but damn, did I underestimate him.
The increasing uncertainty surrounding this person and this place starts to wear at me until I’m almost nauseated with panic. What the hell was I thinking, letting a stranger take me away from my car so late at night? I should have just slept in my office. It’s not like I’ve never done it before, and maybe it would have gotten me some more worthless brownie points from my manager.
Getting into this car was a horrible mistake, and I have to get out before I end up dead in a ditch or loaded into a crate on my way to Siberia. I should have just stayed in my car on the side of the road. It’s not like there would have beennobodyelse on the road to find me.
Knowing the cops around here, I probably would have been approached by one later on in the night. It wouldn’t have been ideal, not by a long shot, but there’s nothing about this current situation that feels optimal at this point.
I didn’t even have the right clothes to walk through the parking lot at work. How could I possibly expect to get through an endless battle with the elements? I feel my toes in my shoes, still freezing from being in my car as I waited for it to warm up. I don’t want to say that I’ddieout here, but I also don’t want to risk it.
The silence of the night is deafening now, and it’s completely lost the charm it once had. Now, instead of bringing feelings of nostalgia, it feels like a casket waiting for the sounds of violence to fill it.
Opening this door feels like pulling the trigger on a gun to my head, or maybe it feels like trying to deploy a parachute. Either way, I’m not ready, and the potential for failure is high.
Then, before I have the chance to form another thought, I hear a loud bang coming from the outside.
I jump out of my skin, screaming from the sudden blast when another rattles the surrounding space.
Then, as if things couldn’t get any more frightening, the car is hit multiple times from the outside by some kind of automatic weapon. The bullets smash into the windshield without shattering it completely, which would be fascinating if I weren’t watching it happen from the inside.
The windshield cracks in neatly contained cells of broken glass rather than one big shatter. As the shots keep coming, I brace myself for the moment when this miraculously strong glass finally breaks, and my head is taken off with it.
I’m completely stunned from the noise, the impact, and the certainty that I’ve met my untimely death the week before Christmas. My family is going to be devastated, and it’s all because I crashed my car on the highway.
4
Saint
Icould have seen this coming from a mile away. The person I thought I was meeting for a potential business partnership was my current partner, Vadik. I always knew he wasn’t trusting of anybody, but the fact that he set up a fake meeting to test my loyalty shows that he’s just a loose cannon, a liability to me and my business.
Vadik has always been a bit off-kilter, but he was referred to me by someone I would trust with my life. To be honest, I wouldn’t be where I am today without him, but his drinking and drug use has started to rot his brain through the floorboards. I’ve tried to intervene, but he’s stubborn as hell. He’s an old Russian immigrant who grew up in the Soviet Union. There’s no changing him for shit.
I can’t worry about the business now, though. I’m being fired at repeatedly, and what Vadik lacks in trust, he has twofold in marksmanship. It only took a glimpse of him in the corner of the building to know what was coming, but he’s still managed to almost hit me twice now.
I should have known by the tone of the texts I exchanged with my alleged partner. The person on the other end always seemed somewhat shady, even to someone like me who sells guns on the black market. I don’t feel bad for trying to find a new partner, but now I’ve put my life in jeopardy by playing fast and loose with the trust of my men.
After seeing Vadik’s erratic behavior through the last few meetings we’ve had, it should have been clear to me that he’s going off the deep end. I can’t figure out exactly what would have caused him to snap like this, but it doesn’t matter now. He’s fired a weapon at me. Our agreement is over.
The snow is impeding my gait as I run toward the car. Maybe he planned for me to be trapped by the bad weather if I managed to show up, but I might be giving him too much credit. He’s not smart, but he’s very vindictive, and that’s all that matters right now.
As he continues to fire, he aims at the car more than he does at me. Is he trying to destroy my mode of escape? I guess that would be the best thing to do if he wants to entrap me, but it raises my panic to a whole new level. If he’s able to strand me here, he’s going to torture me. I’ve crossed a line with him, and he’s out for blood.
Just as I’m about to slide over to the driver’s side door, he manages to clip my arm. At first, I don’t even feel it, but I’ve been shot before – I know what’s coming, and I need to get to safety before the impact starts to affect me. The blood loss alone could be enough to sink me to my knees in minutes if he hit me right, and I don’t have time to find out. Once I start to lose my hearing, I’m fucked.
He’s running towards me, attempting to fire once more until he realizes that he’s run out of bullets. As he shouts obscenities into the air, the noise he makes sounds more akin to a wounded, rabid animal than a man. It’s a fucking shame what’s happened to him. He’s a shell of who he used to be, even if that person was still a weird, sneaky fuck.
There’s no way he came unprepared for such a thing, so I don’t have forever, but I can at least get out of here before he’s had time to reload. At least that way, he’ll see that I’ve shown mercy on him. Not sure how far that’ll get me, but I’m hoping it’ll prevent further retaliation.
