by Katie Allen
“We passed him. He was sitting in the median, running radar. Once he noticed us, he pulled out to follow. He’ll be catching up in a minute.”
Lauren kept staring behind them. “Why did he notice us?”
“Listen.” Cal thumbed up the volume on the phone he was using to follow the law-enforcement radio traffic.
“—a blue Buick four-door sedan matching the description of the stolen vehicle. Stand by for the plate,” the male voice crackled through.
“Copy. Plate when you’re ready,” a female voice responded.
“Fuck,” Cal muttered. It seemed to be his favorite word that morning, even more so than usual. “Should’ve switched out the plates. Fucking sloppy.”
The following silence seemed to go on forever. Lauren’s breath caught in her throat as she saw a gray car with a light bar on the top coming up behind them, fast.
“He’s behind us, Cal.” Although she knew she was stating the obvious, Lauren couldn’t stay quiet. “He’s not pulling us over, though.”
Cal grunted. “He’ll run the plate first.”
Sure enough, the male voice was back on the radio. “Kansas plate five-eight-four-Henry-Boy-Lincoln.”
In the pause that followed, Lauren stared at Cal’s profile. The muscle in his cheek was twitching again.
“Do we have a plan?” she asked, wincing at the squeak in her voice. “It doesn’t even need to be a long-term plan. Just long enough to get us out of this situation in a way that doesn’t end in prison. Or, you know, death.”
His gaze flashed on her for just a second. “You are not going to prison. If this goes to shit, we’re both going to say you were my hostage. Understand?”
“But—”
“No. I can get out of whatever holding cell they put me in. It’ll be a hell of a lot easier to get you out of an interrogation room than the fucking women’s jail.”
At the thought of accusing Cal of keeping her with him against her will, Lauren’s chin pushed forward. “But I—”
“No.”
She opened her mouth to argue but was interrupted by the female dispatcher’s voice.
“That plate is coming back to a 1998 Buick Park Avenue reported stolen this morning out of Myron, Kansas. Two county squads are en route to your location to assist. ETA approximately five minutes.”
“Copy.” The trooper’s voice showed the effects of adrenaline, sounding a little faster and higher than before. “As soon as County’s in position, I’ll attempt a felony stop.”
“Cal?” Her voice had been squeaky before, but now it sounded like a dog whistle. “Plan?”
“Hang on.”
With those not-very-reassuring words, Cal hit the gas.
Grabbing at the door, Lauren felt the pressure of their forward momentum flatten her against the seat. A siren whooped behind them, and she glanced back to see the patrol car, lights flashing, had sped up as well and was close enough for her to see the trooper driving. Lauren whipped her head so she faced forward again, not wanting him to get a good look at her.
“They’re running!” The trooper’s voice had shot up another octave. “I’m in pursuit of the stolen vehicle, occupied times two, heading west on 70, mile marker...stand by...one-seventy-two, that’s one-seven-two.”
“Oh holy freaking monkey balls,” Lauren muttered, thoughts jumping in and out of her mind randomly. This was no longer a fun, sexy road trip. This was freaking scary. They were in a car chase with the cops in a stolen car going a gazillion miles an hour. How did this insanity—criminal insanity—become her life?
Cal swerved right, catching the exit ramp at the last second.
She glanced over her shoulder to see the state patrol car hadn’t managed to follow them onto the ramp. He must have not been expecting Cal’s quick maneuver and flew past the exit. As Cal ignored the stop sign at the end of the ramp, slowing just enough to make the turn onto the highway, she craned her neck for a glimpse of flashing lights.
“They just exited at one-seventy—one-seven-zero—stand by, I’ve lost visual.” It was strange hearing the trooper’s amped voice crackling through the radio app on the phone, as if they were listening to it happening on the news, hearing about someone else’s drama-filled, very bad day.
As they flew down the mostly deserted highway, Lauren twisted around, watching the interstate exit ramp so hard she realized she’d forgotten to blink.
When she finally spotted the patrol car, she blinked.
“How’d he manage that?” she asked without looking away from the flashing lights. “He’s behind us again!”
“Probably did a U-turn, cut across the median and caught the eastbound exit.” Cal sounded abnormally calm.
“I’ve regained visual,” the voice from the radio blared, making Lauren jump. “We’re headed north on Highway Five.”
“Copy.” The dispatcher sounded abnormally calm, just like Cal. “North on Highway Five.”
Lauren was dying to demand to know what the plan was, but she kept her mouth shut. If there was no plan beyond “hang on,” she didn’t want to know. She decided that her own personal plan would be to continue clinging to the door and trying not to hyperventilate.
A new female voice spoke up on the radio, rattling off a number.
“Go ahead,” the dispatcher said.
“I’m at Highway Five, just south of County Road Eighty-Two. I’m ready to deploy the spike strips.”
“Copy,” the trooper behind them answered. “We’re headed right at you. You should see us in just a couple minutes.”
“Cal,” Lauren said as more new voices joined the radio conversation. Two sheriff squads had joined the trooper on their tail. “I think I can guess, but what are spike strips?”
“They lay them across the road to blow out our tires.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I thought.” She looked at her fingers gripping the door, a corner of her mind noting how white her knuckles were.
“Don’t worry. We’re not going that way.” With another one of his no-slowing-necessary turns, he squealed around the corner to the left onto a narrow, paved road.
“They’ve turned west onto Birch County Road Seventy-Nine,” one of the voices on the radio reported.
This road started climbing almost immediately, twisting up a wooded hill. Lauren clung to her handhold and closed her eyes. She immediately realized that the turns were worse when she couldn’t see and anticipate the curves, so her eyes popped open again.
They flew around another twist in the road, and Lauren screamed while Cal swore. The heavy, slow-moving bulk of a garbage truck blocked their lane, forcing them to swerve to the left. She shrieked again as an oncoming SUV barreled toward them, close enough to see the driver’s horrified face.
Cal grunted and their car went left again, two wheels on the shoulder and two sliding down the ravine bordering the road as the SUV flew past, brakes squealing. Cal cranked the wheel to the right and, for a hopeful second, Lauren thought they’d make it back onto the road. Instead, the shoulder narrowed and the ravine grew steeper, and the Buick began sliding to the left, faster and faster, until the entire car rolled onto its side and then upside down.
They were still sliding, Lauren realized, in jerks and starts, as tree branches and scrubby bushes slapped against the upside-down car. She realized she was saying something over and over, “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod,” as her body lurched with each sliding jerk of the vehicle. There was a loud cracking sound, and the car finally slammed to a halt.
“Cal.” Although she was screaming in her head, her voice came out as barely a whimper. “Cal!”
“Here.” His voice sounded so much the same as always, calm and brusque and bossy. “I’m fine. Hang on. I’ll get you out.”
“Okay.” She felt strange, almost as if she were
floating. “Cal, I’m upside-down.”
“I know. Just hold on.” She heard a thump and then his hands were there, unfastening her seat belt. “There’s a tree outside your door, so we’re going out on my side.”
“A tree?” She turned her head toward her door, which was bowed in, the smashed window framing the gray-brown bark of what looked to indeed be a tree.
Then she was free, slipping down until Cal’s grip steadied her and turned her right-side up. He sat her on the ceiling of the car, which had somehow, in a strange way that her fuzzy brain couldn’t figure out, become the floor.
“Cal,” she protested as his hands released her.
“Just a second,” he grunted, turning so his back was to her and both feet were against his door. He drew his legs up and kicked out. Lauren heard a loud bang and a crunch and suddenly there was a hole where the door had been.
“Let’s go.” His hands were back, and he was pulling her out of the car. She tried to help but her limbs felt disconnected from her body, loose and useless. Once they were free of the car, no longer in a confusing, upside-down world, her brain cleared a little. Cal stood, his iron grip holding her upright but off the ground a few inches.
“I’m okay,” she said, trying to firm up her trembling voice. “You can put me down.”
Cal frowned and shook his head. “Nope, gotta run. They’ll be down here soon. Can you hold on if you’re on my back?”
“I—I think so.” She attempted to move her arms and was happy to see that they were under her control again, more or less.
He swung her around behind him, and she grabbed his shoulders automatically. With one hand on her butt, he hitched her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She’d barely latched on when he took off running.
Lauren looked over her shoulder at the steep incline, her breath catching at the height of the ravine they’d just hurtled down. Although the trees were leafless, the car had traveled quite a distance and the woods were thick enough to hide most of what was happening up on the road. The sound of sirens echoed around them, but she could only see flashing red and blue lights and flickers of movement. Lauren wondered if that movement was people chasing down the ravine after them. At the thought, her breath caught, and her arms and legs tightened around Cal.
“Ease up,” he grunted, his voice sounding strangled. Lauren realized she had a death grip around his throat and shifted her arms to circle his shoulders instead. He ran fast, as if he didn’t even notice her weight, dodging around trunks and ducking beneath tree limbs. She tucked her face against the side of his neck to avoid getting slapped by any branches.
He slowed, and Lauren turned her head to see the reason for his hesitation. He reached in his pocket and pulled something out. The light reflected off the small item but she couldn’t tell what it was. His hand squeezed, and then it was back in his pocket and he was running faster than before.
A loud boom shook the ground underneath them, but Cal never hesitated. Twisting her neck around to see behind her, Lauren gaped at the ball of flames and black smoke that flared through the trees.
“Is that Grandma’s car?” she gasped, her words uneven from bouncing on Cal’s sprinting back.
“It was.”
“You blew up Grandma’s car?” She couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around that. “How?”
“Implanted an explosive device in my electronic equipment. Didn’t intend it to be a car bomb, but I’ll take the distraction.” He turned his head, as if he’d heard something, and then angled in that direction.
Lauren opened her mouth, but a painful jolt in her right thigh took her mind off exploding cars. The numbness was wearing off, and pain was creeping over her body. Most was tolerable, but the searing flashes from her thigh and the heavy throbbing on the right side of her head stole her breath and prickled her skin with sweat.
“You okay?” Cal asked, as if he could read her mind. His run slowed to a jog as he glanced back at her.
No. “Fine.” He didn’t need the distraction of her whining. “Keep going.”
“I smell blood.” Ignoring her, he slowed even more.
“There’ll be more blood if they catch us,” she said, squeezing his shoulders. “Plus prison and torture and needles and crazy scientists. So run.”
He made a displeased sound but sped up.
Lauren’s head swam a little, and she couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Run, Forrest, run!”
“Shit.” Although he didn’t slow down this time, Cal was obviously unhappy. “Head injury.”
“I’m okay, Cal. Nothing’s going to fall off before we get to safety and can check each other out, including my head.” She restrained another giggle at the thought of checking him out, thoroughly checking him out, but then sobered. If her random, inappropriate thoughts were any indication, she did have a head injury.
A new sound filtered in above the crunching of Cal’s feet on the forest floor. Lauren listened intently, trying to identify it as they passed through a final stand of trees into an open area.
“A river!” The source of the sound seemed obvious now, and she felt a little dumb not to have realized what it was right away.
“Creek,” he corrected. “Turtle Creek.”
“It’s a big creek,” Lauren said doubtfully as Cal jogged into the water. At the center of the creek, the water rose to above his knees.
“Wide but not too deep.” He slowed to a walk, the water sloshing with each step.
She eyed the water doubtfully and hitched her legs higher out of splash range, tensing as a jolt of pain shot through her thigh at the movement. “It must be freezing.”
His shrug lifted her arms. “I’ll live. It’s worth it to throw off the dogs.”
“Like, literal dogs?”
Cal nodded. “Once they realize that we weren’t in the car when it blew, they’ll try to track us. This creek should be wide enough not to leave our scent trace on the bank.”
She glared at the bank as if it were a potential betrayer but stopped when staring so hard brought the dizziness back. Closing her eyes, she rested her head on Cal’s shoulder.
“Hey, sweet pea,” he said, giving her a little bounce. “You still with me?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She lifted her head with an effort, since it suddenly weighed two tons. Lauren was determined not to complain about it, though, since all she was doing was sitting on his back, while Cal was carrying her through knee-high, freezing water. She also noticed a streak of blood smeared across his cheek, so he had his own aches and pains. She wasn’t going to add to his stress when there was nothing they could do about her injuries now.
Another wave of dizziness hit her, and she squeezed her arms around his shoulders. It felt as if they were both tilting back and forth, but Lauren knew it was just her brain misbehaving.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his own grip tightening. “You’re not okay.”
“No,” she argued, swallowing back her nausea. Puking on him would not prove her “I’m fine” point. “I’m okay. Just a little...”
The world swirled around her and then went black.
Chapter Nine
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Cal twisted, grabbing Lauren’s limp body and pulling her around to his front. He tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and picked up his pace to a jog. The water slowed him down, but they were still too close to their entry point. He wanted to work his way upstream a few more miles before getting back on dry land.
Her injured thigh draped over his chest, giving him a good view of the blood-soaked rip in her jeans. He could only see glimpses of the laceration on her leg, but the bleeding had almost stopped. The blood on her skin and jeans was dark and tacky, with just a trickle of bright red escaping the wound. The injury was ugly but not life-threatening, and Cal was
relieved they didn’t need to take the time to put on a pressure bandage right away.
There was a good-sized town just a few miles downstream, but Cal thought that’d be too obvious a choice. The searchers would most likely assume that Cal and Lauren would head toward the closest civilization. He swore under his breath at the loss of his cell phone turned police scanner. Without that link, he’d have to guess what law enforcement would do next in their search.
He plowed through the water, careful not to jostle Lauren. It was tempting to speed up but he didn’t want her bouncing around with her head injury—at least more than he could help. The location of the burning car helped their lead, since it would take time for the firefighters to get their equipment down to the bottom of the ravine. Cal was pretty sure a search wouldn’t start until it was confirmed he and Lauren hadn’t been in the vehicle when it exploded, but anxiety still pushed his legs to move faster. With each minute that passed, he felt more exposed.
“Cal?” The groan against his back brought him out of his thoughts.
“Hey. You’re awake.” He moved her so that he was carrying her in front of him, bride-style.
“Unfortunately.” She attempted a laugh and winced, bringing her hand up to her head.
His jaw tightened until his molars ground together. He’d known it could come to this, from the first moments of flirting in the mail room. Now she was injured and they were on foot, and it seemed that every fucking law-enforcement agency—legitimate and not so legitimate—were after them.
“How’s the plan situation?” Lauren’s voice was still scratchy, and his arms tightened around her. When she squeaked a protest, he realized that his hand had pressed on her injury. Mentally swearing at his carelessness, he carefully adjusted his grip.
“We’re headed to a small town about seventeen miles upriver.”
“Myron-small?”
He gave an amused grunt. “This shit hole will make Myron look like a thriving metropolis. It has a gas station and a few houses, and that’s about it.”
“And it’s our destination...why?” She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes.