And if you do, she knew, you’ll upend this entire thing and go flipping end over end into the ditch. Do you want to die?
She heard a grinding screech as the tires reconnected with the asphalt, spitting sheets of water out through the tires’ muddy treads. There was a horrible lurch, steamers of parallel and reflected lights from off of a toppled road sign, a scream and a jangle of shattering metal as one of the motorcycles behind her hit the puddle-craters at sixty miles an hour.
Un-aimed gunshots, screamed curses. Sophie ducked down and dared one more look into the side mirror, gauging how much faster she could go. Too fast already. The mirror winked blue droplets of light back toward her face as the lead pickup truck behind her lurched over the wreckage and body from the motorcycle. More shots, one connected with the H4’s rear bumper and ricocheted off into the asphalt, sending little gouts of black powder up over the road just ahead.
The pickup hit the last of the wreckage coming down. It had gone airborne for almost two seconds, Sophie could no longer see its reflected headlights but she could hear its racing engine rev as it lost contact with the road. It came down hard, and someone on one of the other motorcycles yelled out a warning. A rifleman flew out of the back of the pickup and was gone. There were the sounds of slammed-on breaks, skidding, more shouts of alarm. Something huge and heavy crunched into the divider wall thirty yards out behind the H4. Sophie did not have time to wonder what it might have been.
There were still distant engine sounds then, for a few seconds longer. The other cars were jumbled up behind the wrecked vehicle, and at least four of the motorcycles had slowed to a halt as well. Time! A few more precious seconds in which to live. If Sophie was going to do anything, she needed to do it now. She could not slow down, she couldn’t shoot, visibility out in front of her was scraping away to fifty yards or less and the rains were growing worse. But if Silas could manage one shot out the window, perhaps, perhaps…
He needs to get up. I can’t do this, not alone. He needs to help me. Sophie was close to terror, trembling. If she lost it, her reactions would slow as the death-terror took hold. She almost prayed that the vengeance of the men behind her would be swift, if not merciless.
No! Do this now! She could not give up, not for anything. Because no one was going to help her.
She screamed out over the engine’s roar, “Silas! You need to get up! Help me!” And nothing. Not even a groan. Another jagged line of wrecks ahead, she could not look behind her to see if Silas was alive, or — clang! Crunch. The H4’s front right corner caught on an axle spar jutting out of this nearest car wreck, sparks flew up and Sophie cried out as the H4’s speed lurched down another ten miles an hour. She straightened her course and hit the gas again.
“Silas, what do I do?”
Never an answer.
She was certain then that she was going to die alone, and if that were to be so, she was going to choose the circumstances while she still had the power to do so. She would slam on the brakes, shoot herself in the head before she had more time to question or to think. If she had any lingering doubt rise up, any hesitation to twist her fatal resolve at all, if she delayed for a moment after stopping, the men would —
And in a deep and broken voice she could not recognize as her own, she cried out, “No!”
She was not going to kill herself, not after surviving everything, after Silas had given his own life to get her this far. She had sworn to Lacie that she would make it, she —
Too late. There was no more time. She realized in one grim instant that the reason the shots had stopped was because all of the men on the remaining motorcycles were taking careful aim. Planning. Their engines were much closer, at least three to either side. They were moving in.
More wrecks in the road. Sophie was going forty again, forty-five, but the back and forth lurching of the H4 was torturing the suspension and loosening the entire rack of supplies upon the roof. Soon, the entire load was going to break off and go scattering out behind. Would that be so nightmarish, after all? Would it slow any of the oncoming motorcycles in time for her to save herself?
No. You can’t rely on randomness to save you. This was it. In twenty-five seconds or less, she would need to make a decisive feint and attack all on her own, or she would be shot in the head. It really was that simple.
Headlights were flickering in the side mirror again. This time, she managed to raise a hand off the wheel long enough to press the electric lever that lifted the mirror up a little higher. Two pairs of motorcycles were only ten yards behind her to left and right. Without large windshields, the riders were all wearing helmets, and they were certain to be suffering more in the rain than Sophie was in the H4’s sheltering interior. The motorcycles might be more maneuverable but the rain was taking its toll on control and traction, and the cycles needed to draw in very close to have a clear shot at the Hummer’s driver. If only there would be a straightaway, another swathe of mud and asphalt clear of wrecks, where Sophie could maneuver one last time, force one more twist of fate to barely defy her certain death. Please…
And there it was. Fifteen yards out in front and beyond a toppled school bus, where Sophie would soon be forced to drive all the way over to the right with the motorcycles following after her. There was a clear but lethally narrow straightaway to the very limit of her high beams’ glare.
Best chance, last chance. Silas could not save her, and she had only two choices and seconds to decide. She could either hit the brakes and fire to one flank, trying to kill the nearest rider before any of the gunmen managed to kill her; or, she could gun the engine as fast as possible and try to make an escape. And then what? You think they’re all going to give up and stop hunting you?
But there was no time for any strategic decision. The last four motorcycles had just navigated their way around the burned-out school bus, and Sophie could hear the shouts, commands for a synchronized assault on the H4. She could have sworn that the loudest voice, that fury, was Zachary’s. Life. Not exactly precious, darling, he had said to her. Not any longer. Even if he had to risk everything, he was going to have her.
The straightaway widened a little, the two pairs of motorcycles were forced to run side by side into the narrow. The front two cycles were accelerating rapidly as they shot out of the narrow’s confines, with the other two cycles still stuck ten yards behind them.
This is the only chance, Sophie knew as she carefully drifted the H4 off to the right to restrict the already-tight clearance on that side. But she could not close the space off in time. Almost, but no. Not to deny the passage of something as small as a motorcycle. She was going to be shot, and very soon.
After everything, the nothing now. She touched upon a lilting, almost tranquil moment of final perception. Try this last, then embrace the nothing. This is where I die.
She slowed so she could drive with one hand, picked up the submachine gun. She could only fire to one side. The riders knew, or at least suspected, that she was still armed, and that it would be much easier for Sophie to fire out the driver’s side. So the fatal pincer of the attack would almost certainly come from the narrow right, where Sophie would barely be able to get off a clear shot firing through the closed passenger window. The motorcycle gunmen, however, would have almost point blank shots once they caught their first sight of her.