trunk. I was taken aback by the excitement—with the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I almost felt light-headed. I knew he was still on the car; I heard him pound against the metal. The woman started to chase after us, her hair bouncing as she ran from the porch. She was fast, really fast.
The gears of the transmission grunted and grinded as I accelerated down our dirt road. I steered into every pothole, hoping to see him fly from the car. His arm slipped to the windshield, and I could tell that he was scuffling for a better hold. But he still held on. I had one more shot to lose him. If I could turn hard enough onto the freeway, I might just sling him off.
I could see the highway coming up in the distance. I fastened my seat belt and held the steering wheel for dear life. I fumbled with the clutch and shifted once more before shooting the RPM into the red. I used both hands to cut hard onto the highway.
His body flew over the windshield, splintering the glass down the middle and bouncing off the side of the car. I had won.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking while I sped along the misty highway. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Why are they after me? Was Alice kidnapped? My mind couldn’t wrap around either idea. We didn’t own anything of real value, and Alice didn’t have an enemy in the world. What did they do with her? What do they want? And why are they after me? Think. Think.
I needed help. I didn’t have a cell phone, and the nearest phone was across the river. I didn’t see them behind me anymore—I could make it.
The mist thickened to a hard rain. Of course. I felt blindly for the lever to turn on the wipers, then flipped on the headlights. I just need to concentrate on driving. Focus. The speedometer was steadily increasing. Fifty mph. Fifty-five mph. Sixty mph. I would have help in no time, I thought. But I was wrong.
My eyes slowly fluttered opened, but all I could see was an upside-down world. There was a loud ringing in my ears and pressure building in my head. I looked up. My hair dangled from my head and rested on the ceiling that was battered and beaten into the muddy earth. I looked to the shattered driver’s side window. Rain pounded in and formed puddles on the metal ceiling. I glanced up at my white-knuckled hands. My hands were bleeding now, but were still clinging to the grooves in the leather steering wheel. I loosened my grip and slid my shaky hands along my sides. No broken bones, but a nice whelp had already formed on my ribs where the floor shift had detached and pushed against my side. I was still strapped against the leather seat. I reached to my right side and forced my thumb into the release button—nothing happened. I yanked the seat belt while I jabbed at the release—nothing. The belt was jammed.
Only seconds ago, I had slammed on the brakes too fast and jerked the steering wheel too hard. I had flipped the Coupe off the road and rolled clear down the ditch. But why? Erik had been in the middle of the road with the girl, perched on a black and silver motorcycle, blocking my way out. They were just sitting there in the rain—head turned sideways with their black shades in place . How did they catch up to me? It didn’t matter now. I needed to get loose. I needed to get out of the car. I needed to run.
I pulled at the seat belt, throwing the weight of my body into it, until something snapped. I didn’t take time to see what had broken I just grabbed my bag and crawled my way out of the metal heap. My side was hurting now.
I took a step away from the car to look through the rain. I didn’t see them. I didn’t see anyone. I took another step away from the car and used my hands to shield my eyes from the rain. That’s when I saw them.
They were standing next to the motorcycle, studying the land. Fortunately for me, the ditches of Louisiana were too soft for any machine to drive through—that’s what caused the Coupe to slide so far away