The door was unlocked, but the knob slipped under his blood-soaked hands. “Come on!” It finally opened.
The cold air smelled of petrol and polish. Five vehicles sat gleaming like five golden rings. Jack had never driven a car. Had never even sat in the front seat.
The key box hung on the wall beside the door. He yanked it open, scanned the labelled hooks, and snatched a fob with trembling fingers. He pressed the unlock button, and the fourth car chirped in response, its lights flashing.
The Porsche.
He could do this. What choice did he have?
Opening the door, he threw the pillowcases into the passenger seat and dropped behind the wheel, hardly able to see over the dashboard. The interior reeked of the chancellor’s cologne, and his stomach lurched. He jammed the key toward the?—
No ignition.
No keyhole.
Just a sleek dashboard.
“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!”
He pressed random buttons, smearing blood over the pristine veneer. Nothing.
Jack slammed his bloody palm against the steering wheel. “Start, you sonofabitch!”
His foot. The brake.
Dropping low in the seat, Jack stomped the pedals and jabbed the big button again. The engine roared to life, then screeched.
“Shit!”
“Hey!”
His attention snapped to the small door. One of the drivers came charging toward him. “Get out of there!”
Jack slammed the gear shift, and the car lunged forward. His face smacked into the steering wheel. Stars exploded behind his eyes.
A hand pounded on the glass. “Are you crazy?”
Jack blinked through a burst of white as a high-pitched ring exploded in his ears. The front of the car was smashed into a workbench, tools scattering across the dented hood. He tasted blood, and something warm and wet dripped into his eye.
“Unlock the door, kid?—”
He yanked the gearshift back, and metal shrieked. “Shit!”
The car shot into reverse with enough force to throw him forward again when it smashed into the bay door, splintering the wood but not yet breaking it.
“The Chancellor will beat your ass for—” The driver dove out of the way as the car lunged forward again.
This time, when Jack reversed, he slammed his foot firmly to the floor and shut his eyes.
“No, no, no!”
The garage door exploded in a spray of splintered wood.
The Porsche catapulted into the snow, sliding wildly into the lawn. Gripping the wheel with slick hands, Jack sped over the wet mud and slush, tires losing traction and offering little control.
Voices shouted from the house. He caught a glimpse of men chasing after him in the rearview mirror.
How much do they know?
