small. Didn’t I ask you not to park so close to the edge? You never listen to me!”
“What the hell is he doing?” Polk murmured, his own face losing some of its color. He moved then to jump out of the car and confront the biker. But a sudden, forceful blow from behind snapped Polk’s head forward and slammed it into the steering wheel. He let out a startled grunt. A second later, his eyes snapped shut. His mouth fell open and his head rolled to one side and then lay still.
Nancy, sitting sideways on the front seat, screamed his name. When he didn’t answer, her terrified eyes flew to the back window.
The biker was still out there. She could see his helmeted head.
Instinct told her to flee the car. But she was afraid to. He was out there. Sweatshirt or not, she knew it was him. He had almost killed Lily D’Agostino last night. He would kill her, too, if she got out of the car. And she couldn’t abandon Polk, anyway.
With shaking fingers, Nancy fumbled behind her for her seat belt, which she had removed when they parked. She called Polk’s name over and over again as she tried, failed, tried again and finally succeeded in fastening the belt. Then she reached across, still urging Polk to “Wake up, wake up!” to gently lift his head and fasten his own belt around his chest and shoulders.
She was just sliding the clasp into place when the motorcycle’s engine roared to life behind the car.
Nancy sat up very straight. Her head turned slowly toward the back of the car, her eyes wide with dread. “No,” she whispered, “no …”
Then, for just one tiny little second, hope sprang to life as she watched the bike move away from the car, backing across the road until it reached the edge of the woods on the other side.
He’s going to turn around, she thought, her eyes never leaving the motorcycle. Her body was shaking so violently with fear, her knees were banging against each other. She couldn’t stop trembling. Her breath came in tiny little gasps. “Polk,” she whispered to the boy lying unconscious behind her, “it’s going to be okay. He’s going to turn around now and drive back down the highway and then you’ll wake up and thank me for putting your seatbelt on and you won’t be mad at me anymore. We’ll drive straight back to campus and I promise I’ll play tennis or golf or go dancing or any fun thing that you want.” She was sobbing quietly now, as she watched the biker with agonizing anxiety. Her voice rose until she was speaking almost as loudly as Polk had during their argument. “And nothing bad is going to happen because he’s going to turn around and go away, he is, I can tell, but if you’d just wake up, Polk, why don’t you wake up, then I wouldn’t have to wait all by myself to see what he’s going to do.”
The biker did not turn around and drive back down the highway. He just sat there, staring at the car, his engine idling and snoring noisily and spewing out black smoke. He stared at the car for a long time, two, three, four minutes, while the terrified girl in the car kept her eyes on him, never taking them off him for a second.
She was praying aloud now, because he hadn’t left, and so she was praying for him to leave, “Please, please, let him leave, please, I want to get out but I’m scared, I’m so scared if I get out he’ll run me down, break my legs like he did Lily’s, and I can’t leave Polk, anyway, please, please, just make him go away and I promise I’ll never ask for anything else again as long as I live.”
She was still praying aloud when the biker gunned his engine, and flew across the highway, slamming into the back of the Miata at full speed.
Nancy screamed. She swiveled on the seat and threw herself on top of Polk. Maybe she hoped to protect him. Or maybe she was willing him to wake up and protect her.
The car lurched forward and sailed off the edge of the cliff as if it had suddenly sprouted wings. But without power, it only hung in the air
“What the hell is he doing?” Polk murmured, his own face losing some of its color. He moved then to jump out of the car and confront the biker. But a sudden, forceful blow from behind snapped Polk’s head forward and slammed it into the steering wheel. He let out a startled grunt. A second later, his eyes snapped shut. His mouth fell open and his head rolled to one side and then lay still.
Nancy, sitting sideways on the front seat, screamed his name. When he didn’t answer, her terrified eyes flew to the back window.
The biker was still out there. She could see his helmeted head.
Instinct told her to flee the car. But she was afraid to. He was out there. Sweatshirt or not, she knew it was him. He had almost killed Lily D’Agostino last night. He would kill her, too, if she got out of the car. And she couldn’t abandon Polk, anyway.
With shaking fingers, Nancy fumbled behind her for her seat belt, which she had removed when they parked. She called Polk’s name over and over again as she tried, failed, tried again and finally succeeded in fastening the belt. Then she reached across, still urging Polk to “Wake up, wake up!” to gently lift his head and fasten his own belt around his chest and shoulders.
She was just sliding the clasp into place when the motorcycle’s engine roared to life behind the car.
Nancy sat up very straight. Her head turned slowly toward the back of the car, her eyes wide with dread. “No,” she whispered, “no …”
Then, for just one tiny little second, hope sprang to life as she watched the bike move away from the car, backing across the road until it reached the edge of the woods on the other side.
He’s going to turn around, she thought, her eyes never leaving the motorcycle. Her body was shaking so violently with fear, her knees were banging against each other. She couldn’t stop trembling. Her breath came in tiny little gasps. “Polk,” she whispered to the boy lying unconscious behind her, “it’s going to be okay. He’s going to turn around now and drive back down the highway and then you’ll wake up and thank me for putting your seatbelt on and you won’t be mad at me anymore. We’ll drive straight back to campus and I promise I’ll play tennis or golf or go dancing or any fun thing that you want.” She was sobbing quietly now, as she watched the biker with agonizing anxiety. Her voice rose until she was speaking almost as loudly as Polk had during their argument. “And nothing bad is going to happen because he’s going to turn around and go away, he is, I can tell, but if you’d just wake up, Polk, why don’t you wake up, then I wouldn’t have to wait all by myself to see what he’s going to do.”
The biker did not turn around and drive back down the highway. He just sat there, staring at the car, his engine idling and snoring noisily and spewing out black smoke. He stared at the car for a long time, two, three, four minutes, while the terrified girl in the car kept her eyes on him, never taking them off him for a second.
She was praying aloud now, because he hadn’t left, and so she was praying for him to leave, “Please, please, let him leave, please, I want to get out but I’m scared, I’m so scared if I get out he’ll run me down, break my legs like he did Lily’s, and I can’t leave Polk, anyway, please, please, just make him go away and I promise I’ll never ask for anything else again as long as I live.”
She was still praying aloud when the biker gunned his engine, and flew across the highway, slamming into the back of the Miata at full speed.
Nancy screamed. She swiveled on the seat and threw herself on top of Polk. Maybe she hoped to protect him. Or maybe she was willing him to wake up and protect her.
The car lurched forward and sailed off the edge of the cliff as if it had suddenly sprouted wings. But without power, it only hung in the air
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