Chapter 35 Asher #2
“I’m on it. Don’t die in the meantime.” The line clicks dead, and I look over at Ella. Her face is ashen, and her hands are shaking. “It’s going to be okay,” I say, taking her hand in mine again. I tell that to myself, willing myself to believe it.
“Brace!” Flores calls out as the car on our left slams into us.
Then the car on our right hits us, and we ping pong back and forth, hitting each of the cars, two, three, four times.
The image of a speeding car, of my grandfather’s lifeless body sprawled on the floor of his black limousine, flashes through my mind.
This is not that, I say to myself, fighting to keep my wits about me.
A bus speeds up and slams into the security car behind us. Ella screams as the car rearends us. I turn and watch as the bus hits the car from another angle, causing it to flip over three times.
“We’ve lost our backup!” I shout.
The bus now speeds toward us from behind. Andrew swerves just in time to miss the impact, but we slam into the car to our right again. We’re caged in.
“Head for the four ninety-five!” I shout at Andrew. “We need to go to the estate!”
Andrew speeds, slows, swerves, and does his best to maneuver the car to avoid hits.
Every impact and almost impact bring back the moment of the crash from my childhood in my mind.
The way time seemed to slow. The way the glass shattered from the windows and sparkled as it flew.
The way the air rushed from my lungs as I was thrown forward so hard that I’m not sure how the lap belt kept me from flying through the car.
The way my neck snapped and popped. And worse, the way my grandfather’s body flew, slamming into the partition between the front and back of the limousine. The pain.
This is not that, I remind myself again.
I hold onto Ella, forcing the images and memories away. I must keep her safe. I will not let her be hurt. This will not be a repeat of that night.
“We’re almost to the four ninety-five!” Andrew announces.
“We have to take out the cars on either side of us before we enter the interstate,” I say to Robert. He nods, and we both unholster our Glocks. Flores and Wilkins follow suit. “Jenkins, cover Ella.”
Jenkins moves across the car into the middle of the back seat and covers Ella’s body with his own as we roll the windows down just enough to fit the short barrels of our guns through.
Robert and I fire, aiming for the tires.
Flores and Wilkins do the same on the opposite side.
Return fire ricochets off the bullet-proof windows, and Robert and I duck out of the way before firing again.
“Fuck!” Wilkins shouts. “I’ve been hit!”
I turn and see blood splattered along his neck.
“I can’t shoot; they got my shoulder!”
“Trade places with me!” Jenkins yells.
A second later, Jenkins is firing out the window with Flores, and Wilkins is covering Ella’s body.
“Are you okay?” Ella shouts.
“Fine, nothing vital,” Wilkins says through gritted teeth.
Finally, just as my clip is about empty, Robert and I both hit the front and back tires, and the car whips around and crashes into the barrier leading to the interstate. Seconds later, Flores and Jenkins take out the second car. But the bus still follows, ramming into us as we enter the on-ramp.
We roll the windows up just as we hear the whirring of a helicopter above us.
“Air support is here!” Andrew calls from the front.
Jenkins pulls Wilkins to the opposite seat and takes off his jacket, assessing the wound. “It’s a clean exit. You’re lucky, man.”
“Where is the bullet, then?” Robert asks, and then his eyes go wide as he sees it buried in the wall of the car, right next to his head. Three inches to the left and that bullet would have killed him.
“Get on the phone with the police force in Long Island,” I say to Jenkins. “We can’t go back to the penthouse. We’ve got to go to the estate.”
The bus rams us again, and the car swivels dangerously before Andrew regains control. “I don’t know how much more damage we can take!” he calls back.
Sirens wail from behind us. A call comes through my cell.
Olsen. “My chopper is on your route, and we’re setting up a spike trap six miles ahead.
It’s the only way we’re going to take down that bus without bystander casualties.
But be aware, the bus is following too close to wait until after your car is over to engage it.
Both vehicles will hit the spikes; there’s no other option.
Make sure you’re all buckled and that your driver slows down right before the spikes. Hang on until then.”
He hangs up, and I relay the message to Andrew and move next to Ella again. I triple check her seatbelt, then make sure I’m buckled.
“We’re going to make it through this,” I promise her, choking back my panic.
She nods with pools of tears gathered in her green eyes. “You survived a car crash once; you can do it again.”
“We will survive.”
Two tears escape and paint lines down her cheeks. “We will. No matter what happens, I love you, Asher.”
I can’t say the words back; they feel too much like a pre-emptive goodbye.
Instead, I hold onto her. Six miles feels like a lifetime and like a second all at once.
I fight to stay present, but my mind doesn’t cooperate.
It plays through the images of the car crash over and over again.
Grandfather’s body sprawled at an unnatural angle on the floor of the car.
His blue eyes open and glazed over in death.
The high speed causing the world to race by too fast. My shaking fingers fumbling to buckle my seatbelt with bound hands.
The blood from my head dripping into my eyes.
The relief from the click of the seatbelt.
The boom of impact. Shattered glass. Flying shards. Pain. Then nothing.
This is not that.
This is not that.
This is not that.
I take Ella’s hands into my shaking ones. It takes every ounce of control I have to not lose myself to fear. To not succumb to the past.
This is not that.
“I love you,” I shout, giving in to the words as Andrew shouts for us to brace for impact.
Before we can, the bus slams into us from behind, but this time, with more purpose. When the bus hit us before, it was to slow the car or push it off course and get it to stop. This is not that. This is the bus ramming into our car as fast as it can to take us out.
I fly forward in my seat as the crunch from the crash hits from behind. A second later, I’m jostled up and back as the car hits the spikes in the road.
The world stills.
I float but am still tethered by my seatbelt.
Glass shatters.
Shards fly.
Nothing feels real as the car spins in circles, then swerves back and forth.
A second and a lifetime later, we come to a crashing halt. I gasp for air and look over at Ella. She lies against the side of the car, still buckled, but limp. Her head hangs down onto her chest. Her eyes are closed. Blood runs in rivulets down the side of her face.
My worst nightmare has come to life.