kill.
â N-o-o-o-o-o-o !â The word roils up, torn from the center of my core, bursting from my throat in a hysteria-fueled wail that goes on and on without stopping.
I see the skier again, plowing into Adrienne.
Iâm no lightweight.
I see her skidding across the snow, pushed by the force of his strike.
Lesser boarders get hurt.
I see the tree in front of her, her body hurtling toward its unyielding solidness.
Innocent people get killed.
I seeâ
No!
Dmitriâs brake lights.
What?
I let off the gas. Dmitri falls back. I slow, keeping pace behind him. My heart is thrumming out some sort of crazy tribal rhythm, but I feel my airway open up a bit. Heâs falling back.
Bowing out.
Expecting to find Dmitri but finding nothing but open air, Codyâs car lunges toward the median. He corrects, but not before his front end grazes the concrete dividers. A shower of sparks erupts from his nose.
And then I see a beautiful thing.
A police cruiserâprobably the same one that chased me last weekâbursts from the ditch behind us. He rips past us without a sidelong glance, pounding after Codyâs car with his lights on and siren blaring.
I feel a stab of relief. Theyâre not after me. Or Dmitri.
The relief gives way to a sudden delicious satisfaction.
If they catch that asshole, theyâre going to crush his ride.
If he doesnât crush himself first, I think, and shudder.
In front of me, Dmitri slows some more. I follow suit.
He pulls off on the shoulder and I roll to a stop behind him, shaking. My entire body is shaking like Iâve been shot full of nerve poison. The tremors roll out of my center, one after another, causing my teeth to chatter and my hands to tremble on the wheel.
I fumble with my parking brake and take my foot off the clutch. The car jerks forward into a stall, and I shriek. Iâm not thinking straight.
When the engine is finally quiet, I rest my head against the steering wheel. Itâs all I can do.
I soak up the silence for a few moments. A car door closes, but I canât be bothered to look up.
I take a deep breath. Another. Another.
Steady. Come back to earth, Jenessa.
I hear feet crunching on gravel. Another car door opens.
Dmitriâs voice reaches me from a million miles away.
âLooks like theyâve been waiting for him.â Heâs holding my door open, leaning on the frame. I donât lift my head. Instead, I stare at his leg. His boot. The little crack in the sole right where it connects with the toe. The dust around the stitching.
The night air cools my skin. I wait for my breathing to return to normal.
âI donât know how,â he continues, âbut I saw them there, lying in wait. Iâm sure theyâve been wanting to make a bust for quite some time.â
I look up at his face.
He smiles at me. âThought Iâd let them catch the badass tonight.â
I rub my hands over my face. I run my hands through my hair and sit back in my seat. I stare up at the roof. Let out a long breath.
Finally I turn to look at him. âYeah?â I say. I give him a weak smile. âWho says they caught the right one?â
He grins and stoops to kiss me.
I want to cry. I want to laugh.
I want to live.
Alex Van Tol has been writing for as long as she can remember. A freelance writer, she is the author of Knifepoint , Viral and Gravity Check , all from Orca Book Publishers. Alex lives in Victoria, British Columbia, and dreams of Bora Bora.
O rca S o undings
For more information on all the books
in the Orca Soundings series, please visit
www.orcabook.com .
â N-o-o-o-o-o-o !â The word roils up, torn from the center of my core, bursting from my throat in a hysteria-fueled wail that goes on and on without stopping.
I see the skier again, plowing into Adrienne.
Iâm no lightweight.
I see her skidding across the snow, pushed by the force of his strike.
Lesser boarders get hurt.
I see the tree in front of her, her body hurtling toward its unyielding solidness.
Innocent people get killed.
I seeâ
No!
Dmitriâs brake lights.
What?
I let off the gas. Dmitri falls back. I slow, keeping pace behind him. My heart is thrumming out some sort of crazy tribal rhythm, but I feel my airway open up a bit. Heâs falling back.
Bowing out.
Expecting to find Dmitri but finding nothing but open air, Codyâs car lunges toward the median. He corrects, but not before his front end grazes the concrete dividers. A shower of sparks erupts from his nose.
And then I see a beautiful thing.
A police cruiserâprobably the same one that chased me last weekâbursts from the ditch behind us. He rips past us without a sidelong glance, pounding after Codyâs car with his lights on and siren blaring.
I feel a stab of relief. Theyâre not after me. Or Dmitri.
The relief gives way to a sudden delicious satisfaction.
If they catch that asshole, theyâre going to crush his ride.
If he doesnât crush himself first, I think, and shudder.
In front of me, Dmitri slows some more. I follow suit.
He pulls off on the shoulder and I roll to a stop behind him, shaking. My entire body is shaking like Iâve been shot full of nerve poison. The tremors roll out of my center, one after another, causing my teeth to chatter and my hands to tremble on the wheel.
I fumble with my parking brake and take my foot off the clutch. The car jerks forward into a stall, and I shriek. Iâm not thinking straight.
When the engine is finally quiet, I rest my head against the steering wheel. Itâs all I can do.
I soak up the silence for a few moments. A car door closes, but I canât be bothered to look up.
I take a deep breath. Another. Another.
Steady. Come back to earth, Jenessa.
I hear feet crunching on gravel. Another car door opens.
Dmitriâs voice reaches me from a million miles away.
âLooks like theyâve been waiting for him.â Heâs holding my door open, leaning on the frame. I donât lift my head. Instead, I stare at his leg. His boot. The little crack in the sole right where it connects with the toe. The dust around the stitching.
The night air cools my skin. I wait for my breathing to return to normal.
âI donât know how,â he continues, âbut I saw them there, lying in wait. Iâm sure theyâve been wanting to make a bust for quite some time.â
I look up at his face.
He smiles at me. âThought Iâd let them catch the badass tonight.â
I rub my hands over my face. I run my hands through my hair and sit back in my seat. I stare up at the roof. Let out a long breath.
Finally I turn to look at him. âYeah?â I say. I give him a weak smile. âWho says they caught the right one?â
He grins and stoops to kiss me.
I want to cry. I want to laugh.
I want to live.
Alex Van Tol has been writing for as long as she can remember. A freelance writer, she is the author of Knifepoint , Viral and Gravity Check , all from Orca Book Publishers. Alex lives in Victoria, British Columbia, and dreams of Bora Bora.
O rca S o undings
For more information on all the books
in the Orca Soundings series, please visit
www.orcabook.com .
Similar Books
