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“Yeah, but we can see the sky from over there.” Samuel waved his hand toward the side of the road. “And it’s safer.”
“But that’s half the fun,” Maire insisted. “We’d lay on our backs in the middle of country roads and wait until we saw headlights. Then we’d hop up and run to the side of the road and into the ditch and watch the driver of the car freak out.”
“That’s hilarious,” Samuel deadpanned. “How many little old ladies did you give heart attacks?”
“Ha, I don’t know, but we were chased by a few farmers through a cornfield a time or two,” Maire laughed.
“That I would have liked to have seen,” Samuel said. “But really, when does it get fun?”
Just then two headlights winked in the distance. “Right about now,” Maire said.
Samuel twisted his neck to see the headlights in the distance.
“Yeah, hang on,” Maire said. “Wait until they see us.”
“No way,” Samuel protested, scrambling to his knees.
“They’re still far enough away. Don’t panic,” Maire said, laughing and grabbing his wrist to hold him in place.
“Don’t be stupid,” Samuel said, but he was laughing too.
Maire had forgotten the euphoria that two tons of metal careening toward her in the dark could bring. It was wrong, not normal, but it felt so good.
“Now?” Samuel asked.
“Not yet,” Maire said. The car was not slowing down. The driver hadn’t seen them yet. “A few more seconds.”
Samuel scrambled to his feet. “Let’s go, Maire,” he urged, pulling her up by the arm.
She planted her feet. The headlights were mesmerizing, two yellow eyes bearing down on them. She could hear the car’s engine now, which was her cue that it was just about time. She couldn’t believe the driver hadn’t seen them yet. They must be distracted, on a cell phone, or singing along with the radio.
Maire waited until she could see the silhouette of the driver through the windshield.
“Now!” Maire cried, clutching Samuel’s hand as they dashed to the side of the road, the breeze from the passing car lifting her hair from her neck.
“That was crazy,” Samuel said, bent over, hands on his knees and out of breath.
“It was amazing!” Maire exclaimed in delight. “See, I told you. Fun.”
Suddenly, the sound of screeching brakes and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air. The car fishtailed wildly from one side of the road to the other before careening over a snowdrift and smashing into the trunk of a sugar maple. The sound of grinding metal and breaking glass rang in Maire’s ears. Then the air went deathly silent.
The car’s red taillights glowed accusingly as the engine continued to rumble and smoke from the exhaust pipe curled lazily into the air.
“Oh, my God,” Maire said, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, my God.” She began to move toward the wreckage but felt a tug on her sleeve.
“Shh, just wait,” Samuel said, pulling Maire farther into the shadows. “Maybe he’s okay.”
The car door opened, the interior light illuminating the driver’s face.
Maire breathed a sigh of relief. The driver was okay. Her gratitude was quickly replaced with a different kind of fear. They were going to be caught.
A man dressed in a khaki Carhartt coat and work boots stepped from the vehicle. “Hey,” he shouted into the darkness.
Lurching around to the front of his car where a headlight cast a long river of light across the pavement, he bellowed, “You think this is funny?”
Samuel pulled Maire close to him and she buried her face in his chest, trying to muffle the sound of her panicked breathing.
“You think this is funny?” the man shouted again. His voice was slurred. Had he been drinking? The man’s top half disappeared into his car and when he emerged, he was holding a long cylinder that glinted in the glare of the headlights.
