Jack stomped the accelerator, and the car lurched, stuttering then surging forward, spraying stones everywhere. He aimed for the drive, missed, clipped a hedge, and bounced over a flower bed. The fountain loomed ahead. He wrenched the wheel, but not far enough.
The Porsche’s flank connected with the fountain’s base in a spray of sparks as metal screamed against stone. But Jack kept his foot down, grip locked, blood in his mouth, and his survival the only thing on his mind.
Wrought iron gates loomed ahead, fifteen feet tall, closed against the world. Guards were already waiting, weapons drawn.
Hardly able to see past the wheel, Jack ducked lower. The speedometer climbed. 40. 50. 60.
The gates rushed toward him in a twisted, hungry grin. 80. 95. 110.
Jack screamed as the guards dove out of the way. Glass shattered as the impact threw the car. His shoulder hit the window. His head smacked hard from side to side as a hideous screech dragged under the car and wind blasted his eyes.
Air punched from his lungs. He couldn’t see through the blood dripping into his eye. The engine shrieked, and the car swerved as he wiped his eyes. The shattered windshield was webbed with cracks and hanging inside the car, but somehow still connected.
The car jerked and swerved as he looked behind him. The bent, broken gate lay tangled in his way.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” he screamed and laughed, shifting upward in the seat so he could see.
Free! He was finally free!
His hands shook so badly that he had a hard time keeping the car on the road. Blood seeped from a gash on his forehead into his eye, forcing him to keep wiping it away.
He didn’t know where he was going, only that he couldn’t go home. They’d look there first.
His mother. He should warn her. What if they hurt her to punish him?
Lights appeared behind him. Two. Then four. Then six.
“Shit.”
Black sedans, moving fast.
Jack pressed the accelerator harder. The Porsche responded, engine howling, needle climbing past 80. The world blurred at the edges, streaking past in smears of black and green.
He turned at random, plunging down lanes barely wide enough for the car, scraping hedgerows, sending gravel spraying, clipping anything in his way.
The headlights stayed with him. Gaining on him whenever he slowed. Making it impossible to pause or think.
He pushed the car to 90.
It didn’t help. They were on him. Closer now. Hunting.
Another turn. A narrow road through farmland. Jack took a curve too fast, and the car shuddered, tires screaming. He spun, overcorrected, and the back of the Porsche jerked. He thrashed from side to side, losing his slick grip on the wheel.
His head smacked the window hard, and his vision winked. He was going to die.
This was it. Fourteen years. Eight passed in hell.
The black sedans were joined by a dark SUV.
The road forked. Jack swung left, plunging deeper into the darkening countryside. Trees pressed close, branches scraping like skeletal fingers as he barreled over hills.
He checked the mirror. The headlights were gone. Two seconds later, they were back.
His foot slammed the gas, and the engine roared. Red lights flashed ahead. He didn’t understand until it was too late.
“Oh, fuck?—”
Wood exploded as he crashed through the railway crossing gate, a train barreling toward him at the speed of light. He screamed, punched his foot to the floor, gritted his teeth, and shut his eyes!
