37. ~ Journey ~
thirty-seven
“Summers wasn’t bluffing.”
I hear the words as they leave your mouth but I can barely believe them. After everything you’ve done to get us to this point, Summers has still gotten the upper hand on us. Even in death, with his throat viciously cut open, he is still winning and forcing us to scramble to keep up. He deserved every bit of pain that you inflicted on him, Sir. I love you for it, but thanks to his conniving I don”t even have time to bask in it.
You don”t have to say anything else for us both to know what we have to do next. The plan was to get Summers here and kill him before vanishing into the night. There was a brief second that I thought he might be smart enough to inform someone else that he was coming here to talk to me, but the warrant wasn’t for me. IA wanted to question me, but cops were never out trying to track me down so I thought I was in the clear. I’m angry, frustrated, and panicked as I nearly knock the table over trying to get off of it. I pull up my pants as you yank at yours, and we dart into the bedroom to grab the last pieces of our lives that we want to bring with us. Summers may have thrown a wrench into the plan but it’s not over yet. Only we know what’s next, and if we still want it we have to go now.
By the time we exit the room with a backpack full of necessities in each of our hands and run for the garage, the sirens sound like they’re right outside. What the fuck did Summers do? Let the entire precinct listen in on our conversation? Red and blue lights flash through the windows on the garage door as we jump into my car, and when our doors close, we stop. Our eyes meet and I can see the emotion in yours. This isn’t how all of this was supposed to happen. There were never supposed to be uniformed officers right outside our house. We were never supposed to have to run. It was supposed to be a quiet departure into the unknown and neither of us is confused about what will happen when we open the door behind us.
I see the worry on your face and it sickens my heart. I know how this could end and so do you. What we do next will forever alter the rest of our lives, and that is not lost upon either of us. In order to make it out of here, we have to hope we don”t die. We have to survive, and that is not guaranteed.
“I love you, Journey,” you tell me, and I see a look in your eyes that I don”t think I”ve ever seen before. It startles me to the point of silence and I just stare at you. It’s not fear, but vulnerability. It’s like you”re making a choice with me right now, telling me that you know it could all end right here and you”re okay with that because it is for me. If I never knew what true love looked like before today, I know that I’m seeing it now. This is you telling me that you love me so much that you”re not only willing to kill for me, you are willing to die.
“I love you, Evan,” I reply, suddenly immersed in my own emotion as tears fill my eyes.
You lean over the center console and kiss me hard on the lips, and my hands envelope your face. This may be the end, but I don”t regret a single thing, and I wouldn”t change a second of our time together. If we die tonight, it will all have been worth it because I got to experience love in this life. If you go, I go, and I’m ready.
After a final squeeze of my hand, I watch you sit up straight. The vulnerableness I saw a second ago drains from your face and is replaced by a furious determination. You grip the steering wheel with both hands before taking a deep breath, then you shift the car into reverse and press the button to open the garage.
Flashing lights climb beneath the door like long fingers reaching for us, and before the garage is even open all the way, the force of the car jolting backward nearly slams me into the dash. You step on the gas as hard as you can and send the car crashing into the bottom of the garage door. Metal and debris fly everywhere as we explode out of the house, tires screeching as we barrel over the mailbox just as one officer opens fire. Per usual, when one shoots, the rest of them do, and bullets suddenly begin pelting the car and flying inside. Glass erupts and falls on us like razor sharp rain. We both duck, but you manage to shift into drive and floor it again. The next thing I know, the gunfire comes to a stop and is replaced by the blowing wind.
When I look up, I’m shocked to see that we’re on the road. Trees fly by us at a blistering speed and the engine screams as you gun it. The back window is completely shot out and there are bullet holes in the dash, but we’re alive. We’re still going, which means we still have a chance.
When I look at you, you are already looking at me, your eyes roaming my body like you”re searching for clues.
“Are you hit?” you ask, still scanning me as if driving is no longer the most important thing.
“No,” I reply, then my own sense of panic crashes into me and I begin searching your body for blood. “Are you?”
“No, I don”t think so,” you answer.
I’m flooded with relief. Somehow, you managed to get us out of the housing development without either of us taking a single bullet. But when I turn around a second time, I see the flashing lights coming for us once again.
“They’re coming,” I announce.
Now that you see that I’m not injured, your eyes focus on nothing but the road. “I know.”
The car curves hard, barely making it out of the turn before we have nothing in front of us but the highway and the endless flow of traffic inhabiting it. You keep your foot on the gas and send us careening forward. Horns blare as you drive like a professional wheelman, weaving through cars as the police catch up to us and stay on our tail. Wind blows my hair everywhere and to my utter surprise, a smile crawls onto my lips. I look at you and see how focused and serious you are, and for reasons I don”t care to understand, I fucking love it. I’m turned on by seeing you locked in for us, zooming past slower vehicles with no regard for anyone’s safety but ours, and the fact that we’re being pursued by cops—my former colleagues—makes it that much better. We really are like Bonnie Clyde but new and fucking improved.
“You have no idea how much I fucking love you,” I tell you, and the way your mouth curls on the side while you keep your eyes on the road makes me wish we could pull over right now. All in due time, Sir.
Out of nowhere, a police cruiser with flashing lights pulls up alongside us. He”s so close I can see him as clear as day through his window as he looks over at me with a menacing glare.
“I think he’s going to try and ram us,” I tell you, and just as the officer veers away before turning his wheel hard in our direction, you slam on the brakes.
I nearly fly through the windshield as we screech to almost a complete stop and the cruiser crosses right in front of us, missing by mere inches. The officer crashes into the car next to us, which hits the guardrail before flipping into the air and going into a full barrel roll. You, like a trained stunt driver, slam on the gas and shoot us forward as both the police cruiser and civilian vehicle roll into the middle of the highway and collide with other cars. As we rocket away, I turn in my seat and see fire ignite behind us. Someone’s engine has blown up and the damage is so bad that no cars make it through the wreckage.
“Holy fucking shit!” I scream excitedly. “They all got stuck. We’re fucking home free. Sir, we’re home free!” I lean over and put my head out the window to make sure there are no helicopters hovering above us, and I see nothing but the twinkle of stars.
“Okay,” you say after releasing a breath of relief. “We have to get off the highway and find another vehicle before they’re back onto us.”
“Good idea,” I say, still beaming as you take the next exit.
Once we’re off the highway, everything calms down. I breathe normally again. I’m in complete disbelief as it dons on me that it is all going to work. We’re going to get away just like we planned. You did it, Sir. You made this happen. Once we switch vehicles, there won’t be any way for them to track us. We just have to keep going. You are unreal. What would my life have been like if I didn”t meet you? I can’t even imagine and wouldn”t dare to.
I reach across the console and place a hand on yours, feeling the strength in your fingers as you continue to grip the steering wheel like a vice. But when I touch your skin you finally relent. I take your right hand in mine and bring it to my lips, kissing it before placing it in my lap to hold, and I smile as I look out the window, ready for the moment when you stop and we take a vehicle to hit the road again.
As I look out my window with glee still energizing my racing heart, I see headlights in the side view mirror. They approach us so quickly that I don”t even have time to frown before they’re right on our tail, directly in your blindspot. Realization hits me like a shockwave.
“That’s an unmarked car,” I say, but I know it’s too late. “Watch out—”
My words are cut short as the unmarked police vehicle performs a PIT maneuver. The front of their vehicle connects with the rear end of ours, sending us into a tailspin. Smoke and the smell of burning rubber fills the car as we slide sideways off the road completely and into a ditch, before slamming into a tree headfirst.
The engine stops as ringing in my ears begins, and when I look at you I can tell that you”re hurt. You clutch your shoulder with a face full of agony, but the fight is still in you. I follow your lead as you look around, trying to gain a sense of what’s happening behind us. Then you go for your seatbelt, removing it quickly before stopping completely, your eyes as large as the shining moon above us.
“What? What’s wrong?” I ask as panic grips me by the throat.
Your hands slowly raise into the air, and I lean forward to look out your window to find a man standing next to you in plain clothes. He’s holding a black nine millimeter to your temple.
“Move, and I’ll blow your goddamn head off,” the man says, before leaning down and looking into the car directly at me.
The ringing in my ears fades out and is replaced by the sound of my own blood rushing through my veins. I can’t even think, let alone move, as I realize I’m staring directly into the eyes of Captain Saunders.