“Yeah, let’s stop at the next block up. He says he’s a few blocks behind us, so he’ll catch up soon.”
“He’s going to kill you when he gets here,” Eli says. “He’s going to kill us, and he’s going to kill you.”
“No doubt it’s a risk, but I think it’s a risk worth taking. What about you, Charlie?”
Charlie offers a consenting nod.
“Besides,” the passenger says, “he says we have to keep you alive. But the other two, the girl and your kid, we’re free to kill them right now.”
He starts to turn in his seat, shifting the gun toward Ashley, but that’s as far as he gets before I learn forward, swinging my arm, and jam the needle of the syringe into his left eye.
twenty-four
Ashley had sensed the sudden tension at once. Granted, this entire crazy mess was intense, and she was still trembling from adrenaline or fear or whatever it was, and yes, none of this made any sense to her, but if there was one thing she knew, it was how to read people. She had the uncanny ability to walk into a packed room, give the place a once-over, and immediately know everything, or at least close to everything, there was to know about each person.
So in the SUV, she had sensed at once that the older man-Melissa’s father, Eli-could be trusted. The two up front, though-the driver and passenger-had the solid stoicism of trained soldiers. After all, she witnessed one of them come rushing at her with an automatic weapon. She saw the aftermath of his gunplay.
Worst of all, of course, was Jeff. Poor, sweet Jeff, who always had a smile for her, who always innocently flirted with her, who helped her out today because he felt bad. Jeff, whose wife and children didn’t even know yet that he was dead.
She still remembered the blank look in his eyes as he lay at the bottom of the steps. It would forever be seared into her mind.
So yes, that was mostly what she was thinking about-how now Jeff’s wife and children would go husbandless and fatherless and it was all her fault-when she sensed the sudden tension, all stemming from the cell phone in the middle console ringing and the passenger answering it. Eli speaking, the passenger responding, and next thing she knew the passenger was pointing at a gun first at Eli, then, after several moments, at her.
That was when everything went crazy.
Beside her, John Smith leaning forward and swinging something at the passenger’s face.
The passenger crying out, his head jerking back, his gun moving off to the side and exploding as he discarded a round.
The bullet striking the driver in the neck, blood squirting everywhere, raining the interior.
The SUV speeding up, the driver slumping forward on the wheel, his foot heavy on the gas.
On the other side of her, Eli springing forward, squeezing between the two seats, reaching for the passenger’s gun.
John Smith grabbing the passenger’s head and pulling him away as the passenger tried to turn in the seat, raising the gun again.
Eli attempting to wrestle the gun from the passenger, both of them gripping it and neither letting go, the passenger squeezing the trigger several more times, the bullets tearing into the roof of the SUV.
Ashley, frozen in the middle, watching it all happen, wanting to do something but uncertain what to do, when she looked past the ongoing struggle, out the windshield, and saw they were coming to an intersection, that there were no cars in front of them on this street, but neither was there any more street.
It was a T-intersection, a coffee shop sitting directly ahead of them.
People inside behind the floor to ceiling glass windows, lounging at tables, snug and safe in their cappuccino cocoons.
Ashley saw what was going to happen next, and she wanted to do something-stop the SUV somehow, lean on the horn to warn the people inside, something-and she opened her mouth but at first nothing came out. Then, a second later, with the coffee shop rushing up to meet them head-on, while Eli and John in the backseat wrestled the passenger in the front seat, Ashley found her voice and did the only thing she could do at that moment. She screamed.
twenty-five
The bald passenger, despite the syringe sticking out of his eye, is still trying to kill us.
Eli and I, we’re trying to subdue him, or at least that’s what I’m trying to do, grabbing him around the neck, attempting to put him in a sleeper hold. Eli, he’s trying to get the gun away from the passenger, but the man just won’t let go, and he fires it a couple of times, the bullets striking the roof of the SUV, causing my ears to ring, and the blood, man, the blood is getting everywhere, the driver dead, just slumped over the wheel, and it’s not until I think about the driver again do I remember we’re currently barreling down a busy city street in over two tons of metal, a vehicle the dead driver is operating, the engine roaring, which means the driver must have his foot on the gas, and just as Ashley lets out a scream, I happen to look up.
Oh fuck.
I let go of the passenger, push myself back against the seat, scramble for my seat belt and snap it in place.
Eli is still trying to wrestle the gun away, and I shout, “Dad, seat belt, now!” and maybe he senses the urgency in my voice, or maybe he’s thrown by hearing me call him Dad, but he stops for a second, glances up, then immediately disengages with the passenger and throws himself back, clawing for his seat belt.
Ashley screams again.
The passenger, still with that fucking syringe in his eye, smiles as he raises the gun once more. Maybe he’s become blood crazy and doesn’t realize what’s about to happen. Maybe he’s completely sane and knows what’s about to happen and doesn’t care. Either way, it doesn’t matter much, because we only have another second or two before impact.
Ashley screams a third time, really loud, and I realize she’s not wearing a seat belt. Without thinking, I lean over and grab her and hold her tight, as tight as I’ve ever held anyone, and as I’m holding her tight, I happen to look past my father out his window and see the bus coming right at us.
We get lucky, though, at least as lucky as you can be in an out-of-control speeding SUV with a trained badass in the front seat trying to kill you. We make it through most of the intersection without a scratch, the Tahoe going maybe forty miles per hour, when the bus clips us from behind, sending the SUV spinning. We don’t go through a full spin, but rather a half spin, or a quarter spin, or you know what, maybe we don’t really spin at all. But our momentum gets fucked, that’s for sure. One moment we’re speeding one way, the next we’re jerked around, though still heading in the same direction.
The Tahoe skids sideways toward the sidewalk, jumps the curb, starts to tip forward. It doesn’t quite make it. Don’t get me wrong, we totally bash through the glass window-the people inside, at least most of them, screaming and jumping out of the way, a few others not so lucky-but the SUV doesn’t get that far. Then again, the coffee shop isn’t that big, so here distance is relative. Either way, it only takes a second or two before it’s over and the SUV has come to a complete stop. The engine is no longer roaring, the driver’s foot on the gas pedal having been dispelled from the impact. Both front airbags have deployed. The passenger, not wearing his seat belt, is slumped forward. He’s not moving, as far as I can tell, but it’s kind of hard to say for sure when I’m still holding on to Ashley who’s now holding on to me. Somehow I managed not to let go. Somehow we’re still alive.
“John?”
Eli’s voice, faint through the ringing in my ears.
I lean back and look at Ashley, red hair all in her face. “Are you okay?”
She gives a tentative nod.
Eli again: “John, are you all right?”
“I think so. You?”
“As far as I can tell.”