Free Slipping the Past by D.L. Jackson

me.” Jocelyn shot down a one-way street the wrong way and onto an off-ramp.
    Nate latched on to the arm rest, holding his breath as a transporter wailed at them and swerved. Only a crazy man would follow her wrong-way onto an interstate. Hell, she was crazy to do it. Bright lights beamed at them and another horn blasted. Jocelyn veered around the transporter and shifted into a higher gear. She moved to the shoulder and weaved around two more oncoming transporters.
    “Hang on. I think I’ve lost him.”
    Nate eyed the rearview mirror. Empty, except for taillights. Even though she couldn’t see him, it didn’t mean he wasn’t around. Jocelyn pushed the pedal to the floor and accelerated. There was nowhere to go but forward. With the concrete dividers between the two sections, she couldn’t get onto the correct side. They’d have to ride this out for a mile or two, until they hit the open road and she could get across the median.
    “Eyes front.”
    Nate pulled his attention from the mirror. She had seconds to register the reaper standing in front of them, backlit by the lights of a freighter truck.
    “Jocelyn! Look out!”
    “Oh, shit!” She downshifted and swerved, missing the reaper and truck. Instead, Jocelyn hit the divider doing at least eighty miles per hour according to the ancient gauge embedded in the dash. That was how fast, exactly? Her head smashed into the steering wheel before her restraints locked down and yanked her back.
    Everything began to reel along in slow motion. Their transporter spun and flipped, spiraling through the air for several seconds before a hard impact and crunch. Metal screeched as the vehicle slid across the pavement on the driver’s side.
    The smells of blood and smoke filled the wreck. “Nate?” She reached over and felt for him. Finding his shoulder, she gave it a gentle squeeze. He didn’t move. “Nate.” She had the vision of his final impact with the dash before things had gone dark. Was he dead?
    Nate moaned. “Jocelyn?”
    “Yeah.” Pain wrapped around her ribs where the harness had caught. She took a deep breath and coughed. They were both alive, but how badly hurt? Where was the reaper?
    “Sis?” He opened his eyes, giving her a good look at the twisted metal surrounding them. They were lucky to be alive and as his gaze swept around the compartment, she had no doubt he was coming to the same conclusion.
    “Thinking.”
    “No time for that. We need to get out of here.” He reached for her restraint with an odd bend to his wrist. Most likely broken. “Come on.” He’d do whatever he had to, no matter how broken his body. She should have never involved him in her escape.
    “You’re hurt.”
    “I’ll live.” He looked away from his injury so she couldn’t examine it further.
    Boots crunched on glass. Jocelyn’s stomach lurched. She twisted around and patted for anything she could use as a weapon. Pebble-sized pieces of shattered safety glass, an empty paper cup, and an old shirt that needed to be laundered. Not a weapon, unless body odor could be considered dangerous. Everywhere she searched there was nothing solid enough to put a dent in the head of the Enforcer. Shit. Shit. Shit .
    “What have I here? A gift. You’ve gone and wrapped yourselves up so nice for me.”
    “Stay the hell away from her,” Nate snapped back. “She’s got three more hours.” The Enforcer knew the law. They couldn’t touch her until she was eighteen, but this reaper wasn’t playing by the rules and Nate didn’t need to get between them.
    “I have three hours left. You need a warrant,” she said.
    The reaper laughed. “Nice. But it’s not you I’m interested in. Not right now.” The metal door screeched as he pried it off its hinges. “And you’re wrong. I don’t need a warrant if I catch you breaking the law, doll.”
    “No,” Jocelyn groaned. “He’s done nothing.”
    “Sorry, love. I can take one soul at a time. Yours can wait.” She watched from