a crazy woman attacked you…there’s a bullet hole in the wall. No one will doubt you. You said your name is Tyler?”
He said nothing.
To hell with the cars. To hell with it all.
“Call the police as soon as I leave, Tyler. I’m headed north, to my house in Vernon Castle, to your father. If I don’t make it, you’ll find him there. He’s in the barn, in a horse trough.”
“ You bitch …”
“He’s safe there.”
She turned from him.
She walked away
She felt safe as she strapped into the cruiser. She put the computer on the passenger seat, adjusted the radio volume and pulled out of the driveway in reverse faster than she should have, the car shifting slightly in the thickening snow but gaining its traction as she corrected it.
She headed north on the road she could not spell and within a half-mile headlights came up behind her at a speed she thought was going to lead to a collision.
Her father said that when you drove to escape you ignored what was behind you.
She flipped the rearview mirror up.
A few seconds later, a white Ford Bronco 4 x 4 blew by her, emergency lights flashing.
The boy knew how to drive.
(14) The Lemonade Stand
The radio was quiet; she assumed her pursuers were on a different frequency. As she drove, she reached under the dash and tore at wires leading to the radio but stopped when the sirens erupted once: something had shorted.
After two miles, she flashed her lights and slowed. The boy was six car lengths ahead of her and was using his rearview; he stopped and waited. There was no other traffic. She got out of her car.
It was gray and almost dark despite sunset being an hour away. She wanted to make it home before then. She had to fortify her position.
He brandished a gun; she left hers in her pocket.
“Who taught you to drive?”
“What’s up?”
“We need to ride together. I’ve changed my mind about this beast. We’ll take yours.”
“Why?”
It was then she noticed that like his father he wasn’t wearing a coat. She also realized he had blue eyes; the grayness of the world and his pallor accentuated them, made them seem impossibly blue.
“I’m betting they can locate this thing. GPS.”
“Of course,” he said.
Young men know everything.
“There’s a road ahead, we turn right, east to the 365. I can run it into an abutment. Make it look like I spun out.”
“Boy you are something, lady.”
“Watch and learn, Tyler. Let’s go.”
“Lead the way, Magellan.”
She smiled. Well, he did know something .
He did not smile, but he got into the Bronco and allowed her to pass. They drove for a few more minutes. She made a hairpin turn on the road to the freeway. He missed it and caught up to her.
They came to an off and on ramp, on and off ramps on either side. She slowed. Twenty miles an hour and airbags. It would look perfect. It was an easy lie.
She hit the bridge, tapping the brakes, going no more than 15, destroying the front end of the car, sparking the airbags, effectively killing the car.
She laughed, swore to herself as it seemed the thing to do. She sensed nothing broken or bloody. But she’d forgotten to secure the laptop, and it was now on the passenger floor, open. She closed it; she would worry about it later.
She got out of the car and found herself alone.
He’d abandoned her.
She was far from home, far from where she’d been forty-eight hours ago. It was as if she’d crash-landed on a strange, hostile planet: the natives were definitely not friendly.
Overhead, a car zipped by. A wet road, melting snow, ice and slush.
It was time to make lemonade.
It was when she began to walk that she realized her left foot tingled and dragged. It would not totally obey her thoughts. It was broken or fractured; it wasn’t numb from snow, cold, and ice.
She purposely stepped into a snow bank on the side of the freeway entrance. One footprint, one dumb clue, she hoped, that would make them think she decided to hitchhike to
He said nothing.
To hell with the cars. To hell with it all.
“Call the police as soon as I leave, Tyler. I’m headed north, to my house in Vernon Castle, to your father. If I don’t make it, you’ll find him there. He’s in the barn, in a horse trough.”
“ You bitch …”
“He’s safe there.”
She turned from him.
She walked away
She felt safe as she strapped into the cruiser. She put the computer on the passenger seat, adjusted the radio volume and pulled out of the driveway in reverse faster than she should have, the car shifting slightly in the thickening snow but gaining its traction as she corrected it.
She headed north on the road she could not spell and within a half-mile headlights came up behind her at a speed she thought was going to lead to a collision.
Her father said that when you drove to escape you ignored what was behind you.
She flipped the rearview mirror up.
A few seconds later, a white Ford Bronco 4 x 4 blew by her, emergency lights flashing.
The boy knew how to drive.
(14) The Lemonade Stand
The radio was quiet; she assumed her pursuers were on a different frequency. As she drove, she reached under the dash and tore at wires leading to the radio but stopped when the sirens erupted once: something had shorted.
After two miles, she flashed her lights and slowed. The boy was six car lengths ahead of her and was using his rearview; he stopped and waited. There was no other traffic. She got out of her car.
It was gray and almost dark despite sunset being an hour away. She wanted to make it home before then. She had to fortify her position.
He brandished a gun; she left hers in her pocket.
“Who taught you to drive?”
“What’s up?”
“We need to ride together. I’ve changed my mind about this beast. We’ll take yours.”
“Why?”
It was then she noticed that like his father he wasn’t wearing a coat. She also realized he had blue eyes; the grayness of the world and his pallor accentuated them, made them seem impossibly blue.
“I’m betting they can locate this thing. GPS.”
“Of course,” he said.
Young men know everything.
“There’s a road ahead, we turn right, east to the 365. I can run it into an abutment. Make it look like I spun out.”
“Boy you are something, lady.”
“Watch and learn, Tyler. Let’s go.”
“Lead the way, Magellan.”
She smiled. Well, he did know something .
He did not smile, but he got into the Bronco and allowed her to pass. They drove for a few more minutes. She made a hairpin turn on the road to the freeway. He missed it and caught up to her.
They came to an off and on ramp, on and off ramps on either side. She slowed. Twenty miles an hour and airbags. It would look perfect. It was an easy lie.
She hit the bridge, tapping the brakes, going no more than 15, destroying the front end of the car, sparking the airbags, effectively killing the car.
She laughed, swore to herself as it seemed the thing to do. She sensed nothing broken or bloody. But she’d forgotten to secure the laptop, and it was now on the passenger floor, open. She closed it; she would worry about it later.
She got out of the car and found herself alone.
He’d abandoned her.
She was far from home, far from where she’d been forty-eight hours ago. It was as if she’d crash-landed on a strange, hostile planet: the natives were definitely not friendly.
Overhead, a car zipped by. A wet road, melting snow, ice and slush.
It was time to make lemonade.
It was when she began to walk that she realized her left foot tingled and dragged. It would not totally obey her thoughts. It was broken or fractured; it wasn’t numb from snow, cold, and ice.
She purposely stepped into a snow bank on the side of the freeway entrance. One footprint, one dumb clue, she hoped, that would make them think she decided to hitchhike to
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