Free Half Lives by Sara Grant Page B

Drive!’ she screamed at the taxi driver, and slapped the Plexiglass that separated us from the front seat.
    The car lurched forwards. The driver laid on the horn. Faces were pressed against the glass. The roar of fists on the car was deafening. The driver eased forwards.
    ‘I don’t think I can go.’ He gripped the steering wheel at ten and two. ‘Maybe I should take a few more passengers.’ The car rocked back and forth. It was like
those shots from inside some famous bands’ limo, except these weren’t screaming fans; these were adults dressed like reasonable human beings, but with faces red and contorted from
shouting. Their eyes were wild and I didn’t know what they would do if they got their hands on me.
    I fumbled in my money belt and grabbed a fistful of cash. ‘Here!’ I shoved bills through the money slot. ‘There’s more if you get us out of here.’
    The driver surveyed the waterfall of crumpled fifties collecting on the seat next to him. ‘You got it!’ He honked the horn and hit the gas. I closed my eyes. Marissa and I bounced
like balls in the backseat as the taxi freed itself from the crowd.
    I opened my eyes when the ride smoothed. I wasn’t proud that I had left all those people behind, but I had to, right?
    ‘Where do you want to go?’ the taxi driver asked, turning to face us and swerving slightly. Cars honked. He honked back and screamed obscenities at them. He had greasy black hair
that was combed in well-defined lines from his forehead and curled in soppy ringlets at his neck. He kept checking us out in the rear-view mirror and raising his eyebrows. I was thankful the
scratched and greying screen separated us.
    ‘Las Vegas?’ I said. Would he really take us that far?
    The taxi pulled onto the shoulder and skidded to a stop. Marissa and I were slammed into the front seat. Water bottles and breath mints exploded from Marissa’s goodie bag and rolled on the
floor, knocking against my flip-flops. The air was once again filled with honking.
    ‘Are you crazy?’ He shook his head.
    ‘How much?’ Marissa asked, sitting cross-legged in the seat.
    He tilted the satnav that was suctioned to his windshield and tapped the screen with an unusually long fingernail. ‘That’s nearly three hundred miles. It will take six hours and then
I have to drive back.’
    ‘How much?’ Marissa persisted.
    He scribbled on a candy bar wrapper, scratching his head with the pencil point and staring out the window at the passing traffic.
    ‘Three thousand dollars,’ he said, turning to profile and glaring at us with one eye.
    I nodded. I’d pay whatever it took. All that money strapped to my waist wouldn’t save me if I couldn’t make it to the mountain.
    ‘Wait.’ He reached for his pad of receipts and pretended to scribble something. I knew too late that he’d gauged my reaction and realized his fee was too low. ‘I mean
five thousand dollars.’
    ‘That’s almost seventeen dollars per mile. You’re crazy,’ Marissa said.
    I had to make this work. The traffic was growing by the minute. Each passing vehicle was packed with people and stuff bulging over the window line. I couldn’t give this guy half of my
money. ‘All I’ve got is thirty-six hundred dollars.’ I don’t know why I picked that figure. I wanted to make it believable, I guess.
    ‘OK, but I want half up front. You buy all the gas.’ He shook his head. ‘And meals. You buy me food too. There and back.’
    Marissa settled back in the seat. ‘I can swing the gas and food as long as we go places that accept plastic,’ she told me.
    ‘Deal,’ I said.
    ‘I’m not moving until I see more money.’ He crossed his arms.
    Marissa turned away to give me the privacy she could sense I wanted. I noticed the taxi driver leering at me in the rear-view mirror. I lifted my backpack and held it with my knee against the
partition.
    I lifted my shirt and counted out eighteen hundred dollars twice. I clutched one wad in my hand