Chapter 4
“Oh, shit.”
The bus’s engine coughed and spluttered. Smoke rose from the hood. The bus inched forward and stopped with a jolt.
“Fuck,” the bus driver muttered. He undid his belt without a second thought and pulled the handle to crank the door open.
He stepped outside onto the hot asphalt and attempted to open the hood, though he was much too small to reach up so high.
The bus’s passengers erupted into a steady thrum of chatter.
“Everyone stay calm,” the new guard said.
His words did nothing as the bus passengers’ complaints grew in volume.
Caspar watched in silent awe as cars appeared out of nowhere.
They stopped behind the bus and blocked both lanes, creating the traffic jam to end all traffic jams. Some even appeared on the shoulder to block the way.
There was nothing but cars and smoke from the engines all around.
“Oh my God,” Caspar said. He glanced over to Malek, who still sat in his seat with no cuffs holding him back. Caspar struggled against his own chains, but they didn’t move. “What next—what…?”
“There she is.”
Caspar followed Malek’s gaze to a black Nissan Xterra, which seemed to peel out from behind a barn in the fields.
It drove at a blindingly fast rate toward the bus, and halted about ten feet before reaching the road.
A woman stepped out from behind the driver’s side with wide hips, large breasts, and dark hair that framed her face with bangs.
She walked toward the scene and slid sunglasses over her eyes, all of her actions familiar.
The other guard. The woman from the prison. She was the one driving the getaway vehicle. She tossed keys to the bus driver huddled in front of the engine and exchanged a few hushed words. When the new guard stepped off the bus, he waved to her.
“All good, Hayden?” she asked.
“Yep. All here. Ready to go.”
The rest of the bus roared with cries. Malek stood and held his hands up in the gesture that made the first two prisoners stay silent. The bus went quiet, so quiet Caspar could hear his own chains rattle. Malek stood and gestured toward the front of the bus.
“Caspar, come on, man.” Malek held his hands out, concentrating hard on keeping the bus passive with whatever magic power he had. “Come on. Run.”
“I… can’t. Not with this.”
“So walk very, very carefully.”
Caspar rose from his seat and waddled to the front of the bus, while Malek stayed behind him to keep the bus as quiet as he could.
Caspar had to wobble down the stairs, but he made it.
Rocks from the highway crunched under his shoes.
The car horns blasted in his ears, making his head split in pain.
He focused on the fresh air and sunlight—and the woman unlocking his chains.
“Okay, okay. You’re good to go. Take that car.” The woman pointed to the car she’d driven in on. “Sit in the passenger seat. Let Malek drive. Mal?”
“Yeah, J? I’m coming, I’m coming.”
Malek leapt out of the bus and the driver locked the front doors.
While the woman—named J, apparently—ran toward one of the cars caught in the jam and got inside, Malek and Caspar both rushed to their getaway vehicle.
Malek slid behind the wheel, and Caspar sat in the passenger side like he was asked to.
He could still feel the grass on his ankles from running.
The air in his lungs. The sun on his skin.
Everything was so beautiful in that moment, and he knew it was only going to get better.
“Aw, shit,” Malek swore. “J’s gonna kill me.”
“What?”
Caspar glanced back toward the bus. The door had been pried open by someone with a shaved head and tattoos running up and down his arms. He ran ahead into the traffic, followed by a dozen other prisoners.
“Oh no.”
“Never mind. Nothing we can do now, so don’t look,” Malek said. “Keep your eyes ahead. We’re about to go very fast.”
Caspar swallowed and tried to grab his seatbelt.
He was nearly knocked forward against the dash—adding to his headache—as Malek slammed the gas.
Malek reversed into a giant loop around a section of grass and took off toward the barn.
They drove past it, over a couple of hills, and toward the unknown.
The entire time, Caspar felt as if he was being jostled out of his skin.
“Oh my God!” Caspar cried out when they hit a particularly deep gopher hole. A guardian angel charm hanging from the rearview mirror bounced, flying with each bump. “Not that I’m ungrateful for the escape, but are we going to drive over this terrain the entire time?”
Malek laughed, light and throaty again. “Well, right now, I’m trying to get as far away from J as I possibly can before I get in trouble. But don’t worry—we do have another car that’s better for smoother pavement driving. And some clothing for you.”
“Clothing?” Caspar glanced down at his uniform. “Right. This is a bit of an eyesore. Not to mention a red flag.”
“Hold on to the handle,” Malek said, gesturing to the safety handle above the window in the car. “That’s what it’s there for, and it’s about to get rockier.”
Caspar sighed—then gasped again—as they drove over a rough patch.
He gripped the handle and set his teeth together.
He’d be grinding them again in no time. Who knew escaping prison would be so stressful?
He thought it’d be a little bit more about walking outside and kissing the ground, so grateful to be here.
Or maybe standing in the rain like Andy Dufresne—wow, that was a dated reference.
The last time he’d seen The Shawshank Redemption he’d been in high school, and didn’t think he’d ever be able to relate to someone who’d broken out of prison by climbing through a sewer system. I wonder what else I’ve missed.
As if hearing his thoughts, Malek leaned forward and fiddled with the radio, barely taking his eyes off the road as he worked. Caspar’s smile grew when he found a station that played something fast and kinetic, almost like punk.
“I haven’t heard this song before,” Malek said. “Have you?”
When Caspar gave him a you have to be kidding me look, Malek shrugged. “I guess not.”
Malek slammed on the gas as the chorus came up. Guitars crashed and the engine roared. The whole thing was strange and weird, but Caspar liked the beat of the song. He leaned into his seat, holding the handle at the rougher parts, and figured he’d gotten way more than he’d wished for already.