I had to stop that minivan, no matter what.
The minivan had a lead, but it was built for fuel efficiency and passenger space, while the cab was built for speed. I rocketed down the street, not even thinking about my hideous injuries and the fact that I would probably spend the rest of my life with a nickname like One-Eared, Eight-Toed Tyler. The pain didn’t matter. Getting blood on Zeke’s seat was amusing but didn’t matter. Oxygen and sunlight didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except stopping that minivan! I wish we had the budget to put that sentence in 3-D, because I really can’t emphasize enough how nothing else mattered.
I narrowed the distance between us from four blocks to three blocks to two blocks to one block to half a block to a quarter of a block to an eighth of a block back to a quarter of a block because I didn’t want to ram them, and then I pulled into the opposite lane and sped up alongside the vehicle, doing fifty-five.
Glenn looked over at me and then rolled down his window. I couldn’t lean over and roll down the passenger side window while
I was speeding down the street in the wrong lane, so hopefully he’d shout whatever he had to say loud enough for me to hear.
Mildred handed him something.
I applied the brakes as I saw the gun.
He put his hand out the window and shot at me. A hole appeared in the center of the windshield, and the bullet punched into the seat right next to me.
Despite this noteworthy increase in the amount of my personal danger, I did not veer from the nothing-else-matters attitude. I did, however, veer out of that particular lane and swerve into the correct lane, right behind the minivan.
I could see Adam peering out the rear window, looking most frightened indeed. I was dangerously close. If they decided to slam on the brakes, I’d be screwed. I eased off the gas a bit.
A huge semi whizzed past us in the opposite lane. It was a good thing that I’d already switched lanes, or that would have posed a pretty big problem.
I knew that if I rammed it from behind, the damage to the taxi would be a lot worse than the damage to the minivan. (Actually, I knew no such thing from any kind of experience, but it sounded reasonable.) They’d drive off, and I’d be left with a wrecked cab.
So my only choice was to pull up alongside again and ram them right off the road. Yes, Glenn had a gun, but I knew that if I were driving a minivan at high speed with two hostages in the back, my aim would suck. If I did this quickly, he wouldn’t have a chance to get off a good shot.
I could do this.
I wasn’t scared at all, I told myself.
Myself didn’t believe me.
A tiny voice of self-preservation said, Gosh, I think Kelley and Adam will be just fine if you take no action to rescue them, but I told the voice to shut the hell up. Not out loud.
I floored the accelerator.
Up ahead, maybe two blocks, I could see that the road ended. You either turned left, turned right, or smashed into a very large brick building.
I had to get this done.
I sped up alongside the vehicle ahead, and this time, Glenn’s bullet went through the passenger window. I couldn’t tell where it hit, but it hadn’t struck me or the doll, so I didn’t care.
I yanked the steering wheel to the right. For a split second, I started to think that maybe the little voice that had advised a different course of action had a point, but only for a split second.
The two vehicles collided.
The minivan went off the road and onto the sidewalk. In case you had any moral issues with this, I should remind you that the streets were eerily devoid of people. I wouldn’t have done it if there were any pedestrians. I hope you already knew that.
The taxi went out of control and swerved back into the wrong lane. I slammed on the brakes and heard a loud crash and a honk. As the taxi screeched to a stop, I looked over and saw that the minivan had smashed into the side of a brick building right after taking out a fire hydrant. A huge spray of water jettisoned into the air. I could now cross Smash a minivan into a fire hydrant like in an over-the-top action movie off my bucket list.
Now what? The minivan was stopped.
It would be kind of silly to go through all the trouble of crashing it only to run over there and get shot. I mean, there’s a line between heroic and suicidally reckless. I didn’t want my tombstone to say Here Lies Tyler Churchill. He Should Have Stopped after the Minivan Crashed and Not Run toward It When the Driver Still Had a Gun.
The rear door slowly slid open.
Mildred fell out.
Kelley climbed out and gave me a thumbs-up sign. I assumed this meant that Adam was also not dead and that Glenn was not actively shooting at anybody.
I’d done it! I’d saved them!
And then, suddenly, a new voice: What in the freaking frack were you thinking by running them off the road! You could have killed them! What kind of recklessly irresponsible person are you? Don’t ever do that again!
I vowed that I would not do this ever again. The next time my friend and girlfriend were kidnapped, I would allow the proper authorities to handle the situation, using their training and years of experience.
Apparently what happened is Glenn was not wearing his seat belt. I know what you’re thinking: What? Seriously? With kidnap victims loose in the back of the vehicle and the high probability of a high-speed chase, the fool wasn’t wearing his seat belt? How does that even happen? Well, to be fair, he was wearing the seat belt during the drive from their home to the junkyard, but while they were parked waiting for me to resolve my issues with the taxi driver, he took off his seat belt for comfort.
Then when Zeke ran off, Glenn said, “Ha ha! We’re not going to pick up your friend! Instead we’re driving away so my wife and I can torture you to death!” (I don’t know if that exact phrasing was used, and the “Ha ha!” part seems unlikely, but that was the gist.) Glenn was so excited about this wicked twist of events that he forgot to buckle up for safety.
So, when the minivan struck the building, Glenn struck the steering wheel, giving it a good solid honk right before his sternum broke. When somebody is trying to kill you, believe me, it’s always better for you if his or her sternum breaks.
Mildred was wearing her seat belt. This made it more difficult for Kelley to drag her out of her seat and knock her unconscious as she had her daughter, but Kelley got the seat belt unfastened and managed just fine.
Adam got out of the vehicle as well.
Kelley and Adam were safe. I had the doll back. And the cab wasn’t broken, so we had a means of transportation to get to Esmeralda’s House ofJewelry.
I gave Kelley a hug and then said, “Wait a second. We should grab Mildred’s phone before—”
A gunshot rang out.
“Fudge!” I shouted. (Not really, but you can use context clues to figure it out.) Without saying anything else, the three of us knew that it was best to ditch the retrieve-the-phone plan and resort to the get-into-the-cab-before-the-psycho-with-the- broken-sternum-shoots-us plan.
Another gunshot, and then Kelley cried out and fell to the ground.
CHAPTER 24
Four days later...
“It is a great tragedy,” said the reverend, gesturing to the casket. “Such a great, great tragedy, one that causes intense sadness in all who hear of it. It was too soon for the person in that casket to be taken from us, far too soon, and the lives of all who knew that person are now poorer as a result of that person’s untimely death.”
Everybody at the funeral sniffled sadly.
“Some of you may be angered by the passing of this person. You think it’s a dirty trick. You think, ‘Noooo, they weren’t supposed to die! There were much better choices for who should have died instead!’” The reverend lowered his head. “I agree with you. This is not a satisfying death by any stretch of the imagination, and if an author ever turned this life into a book and killed this person off at this point, I would throw the book against the wall and never read anything else by that author for the rest of my life. Why do authors feel the need to kill off characters we like? It’s as if they’re thinking, ‘Oooh! Oooh! Look at me! I’m so dangerous that I can kill off a character and basically spit in your face for having an emotional investment in them!’”
“Hear, hear!” said a sad person in the front row.
Somebody threw themselves onto the casket and sobbed and screamed, “It’s just not fair!” while pounding on the lid. Everybody kept crying for a long time.