Lies(23)

“Holy shit,” I squeak. “We’re going to die.”

“We’re not going to die.”

I do not believe him.

“Everything’s going to be fine. Try and stay calm and focus on your breathing for me.”

“Fuck my breathing.” My heart hammers inside my chest. “Just in case we are, I accept your apology for lying to me about everything.”

He pauses, the gun in his hand ceasing its crazy noise. “Do you actually mean that?”

“God. I don’t know,” I say, my voice still unnaturally high. There’s a good chance I’m about to pee my pants. “Forty-nine percent, maybe?”

“Awesome,” he says flatly. “Do me a favor and keep your head down.”

“We’re going to hit a tree.”

“We are not going to hit a tree.”

“Can you even see to drive?”

“Yes,” he says. “Now let me concentrate.”

We bounce over the rough road, my head hitting the dashboard. Which is painful. Like I didn’t have enough bruises already. I brace one hand straight in front of me against the glove compartment. I also try not to think about death. Though it would have been nice to hear Mom’s voice one last time. To tell my parents I love them. Due to the condo going boom with boxes of my stuff still inside, my browser history and vibrators are already dealt with, at least.

Not knowing what’s going on is killing me, so I take a peek.

Thom fires another couple of shots. “Swap guns with me.”

I grab the empty one he’s shoving at me, handing him the fully loaded backup weapon. Just in time, as it turns out. Because a shadowy figure steps out onto the road ahead of us, wearing a balaclava and brandishing some sort of automatic weapon, I think. Whatever it is, it’s big and scary.

Before he can turn us into Swiss cheese, Thom mows him down. Or rather, sends him flying. Because the body crashes against the top of the windshield before continuing up and over. A bang on the roof of the Charger, then the body disappears into the darkness behind us.

“Oh my God, Thom.”

“Get down, Betty.”

And I do. But apparently that was the last of the bad guys on our trail. Because the sounds of shots being fired at us comes to an end. Hallelujah. I turn my head to see Thom place the gun in his lap and put both hands on the wheel, thank you, baby Jesus. Really rather not drive off the side of the mountain and all.

Now that we’re no longer being shot at, I cling to the interior of the car and concentrate on breathing. All I can hear is blood rushing behind my ears. My ex-fiancé or whatever he is really likes hitting people with cars. It’s a concern. Old Thom was an excruciatingly safe and slow driver and always behaved like such a pacifist. Though the people involved in this particular violent instance were definitely deserving of getting hit, so there’s that.

“Just a bit longer, then you can sit up,” he says, shifting down a gear as he takes a sharp corner. “We should be clear soon.”

“Okay.”

“Most of them were sneaking up the other side of the mountain. Those two just got lucky, I think.” His tone of voice is scarily calm and matter-of-fact, now that we’re clear of the action. “Doesn’t really bother me so much if they fire at me. That seems fair enough, you know? Not that I actually want to get hit because it hurts like a bitch.”

“I bet it does.”

“Seriously pisses me off when they fire at you, though. I kind of take that personally.”

“Ah…thanks?”

“No problem.” Then he chuckles. “So it takes a near-death experience to get you to accept my apologies. I must remember that. Though it wasn’t a particularly sincere acceptance.”

“It wasn’t completely insincere,” I protest. “I’m trying, all right. Just didn’t want to have all of this anger between us. Not if there was a chance we were about to go down in flames.”

He sighs. “You could just accept my apology one hundred percent, you know? That would be nice.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He just looks at me.

“What you did was pretty damn awful, Thom. I would first have to be convinced you understand how messed up it all was. And that you sincerely repented your asshole ways and were never going to lie to me again so help you God.”

“You sound like a foul-mouthed priest.”

I don’t dignify his statement with a response.

“Cute jammies, by the way.”

“Thanks. Not the kind of thing I’d have expected from Crow.”

His lips skew slightly. “I told him you like unicorns.”

“I don’t keep any figurines or anything around. How did you know?”

“Just remembered you put up a picture on social media once. Given the somewhat stressful situation we’re in, thought they might make you smile.”

“Huh.”

We keep going for miles and miles along dirt roads barely deserving of the title. Somehow Thom manages driving with the splintered windshield. With dawn rising in shades of violet and gray over the hills, he pulls up next to a hatchback left on the side of the road with a For Sale sign in the window near the highway. The Charger’s battered windscreen faces away from the road, the worst of the damage hidden from any passing motorists.