Seven rips the seatbelt over his chest and fastens it into place. Braces his hands on the dashboard—exactlywhere they shouldn’t be if we happen to crash. The faster we go, the looser the steering wheel. Driving in a straight line isn’t a chore, but as the highway begins to curve, I find myself trespassing over the yellow lines.
Up ahead, a minivan flies down an offramp. The driver doesn’t even pretend to be paying attention as they merge onto the highway without a blinker.
I jerk the wheel to the left, narrowly avoiding a collision with the minivan, but in doing so, I lose control. The back of the car fishtails sideways. Seven screams as I fight to regain control, zigging and zagging until I’m able to straighten the car out.
The cultist fucks remain hot in pursuit. Remain completely in control as I desperately try to shake them. There’s no way to win on these straight stretches, so I await the moment to make my move. Watch as the next off-ramp comes into view. And then wait until the last second to dip, clipping the wheel to the right.
We spin over gravel, kicking a cloud of dust behind us.
In the rearview mirror, the SUV misses the exit. Doesn’t buy us enough time to escape but it does buy us enough time to have a prayer in shaking them. The road is lined in solid yellow down the middle as it dwindles into a narrow, winding road. Each sharp curve rounded without sight of the SUV is one more stretch of lonely road that separates us from the enemy.
As wehit a stretch of straight road, I take a long look in the mirror as Seven ducks his head over his shoulder. And because I have a lifetime of karma tugging at my soul, I catch a glimpse of the enemy rounding the last curve.
“Noah!” Seven screams.
I look at the road.
Look at the concrete slab with a sign that reads: BRIDGE OUT AHEAD
I slam on the brakes.
Rip the wheel to the left.
The car spins sideways.
Right into the path of the enemy.
The impact sends the car rolling with screeching metal, breaking glass, and a view of the SUV flipping forward, landing upside down.
Blood rushes to my thumping head as my eyes peel half open. If I open them any further, I fear they’ll rip out of my head. My fingers dangle against the deformed roof, fingernails scratching over exposed steel. I glance over to find Seven isn’t in the car with me. To my left, the SUV is also flipped over slightly downhill. One of those sorry sonsabitches is in the same predicament as me, but he doesn’t appear conscious as he hangs upside down.
In the rearview mirror is where I findSeven, lying on his back, dragging himself across a minefield of shattered glass. A cultist steps into view, carrying a gun in his bleeding hand. He inches towards Seven in measured steps. It’s as if he’s matching Seven’s pace with intention to taunt him. To prove there’s nowhere left to run.
I reach for my seatbelt and push the ejection button. My body lands against the roof of the car with a thud. Shards of glass slice through my palms as I crawl through the broken window. Just out of reach is the pocketknife. I grab it as I force myself to my feet. Every step feels like torture. Each limp tears something within my body. My boots crunch over broken glass.
“I’m not going back,” Seven screams. “You’re going to have to fucking kill me.”
The man is dressed just like the guy back at the motel. No fashion sense whatsoever. Cops without badges, but there’s a reckoning coming for him.
“Let me tell you something, pretty boy.” He shakes the gun at Seven. “Don’t get it twisted. If my brother back there dies, your body will be delivered to Silas in pieces.”
“You’re not going back either,” I say softly as I plunge the knife into his back. His entire body seizes forward. He manages to pull the trigger, firing a bullet into the sky as his hands flail around. I remove the blade and spin in a quick circle so that I can meet his gaze as I stab him in the gut. Twist the knife and watchas his eyes bulge, a storm of pain ripping through his body.
He takes a step back and stumbles over his own feet, collapsing to the ground on his side. Blood seeps from his wounds, pooling into a river that flows downhill until it meets the trail of gasoline leaking from my car. The same combustible river that leads straight to the SUV. Right to the man who awakes just in time to see his brother take his last breaths.
He screams in equal parts agony and rage. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”
I ignore his screams as I retrieve my duffel bag from the back of my car—my most prized possession. The only thing I’ve ever loved and it’s now destroyed. It was the one gift Kevin gave me that was irreplaceable.
Because it wasn’t something new.
It wasn’t something that was his idea to bribe me when he’d hurt me.
It was the only nice thing he ever did for me.
Restored my father’s old car so I could have something to remember him by.
And now it’s gone. Sure, it was always going to be gone when I eventually ran it over the edge of a cliff, but the plan was that I would go with it. In some fucked up way, the act of offing myself in the same car my father died in would have brought us even closer in the afterlife.
