Redline

by Alex van Tol

  Get ahold of yourself, Jenessa. Slow it down.

  Gradually, I ease off the gas. But it’s too late.

  I’ve already hit the gravel.

  Chapter Fourteen

  My headlights don’t pick up where the pavement ends and where the gravel starts. I feel my back end start to slide, and I jump off the gas. My rear whips from side to side, spraying thick gravel from under the tires. Dark bushes blur past. I don’t remember how to correct a gravel slide.

  Terrified, I tap my brakes.

  Wrong.

  Suddenly I’m spinning out, turning in circles, watching everything in slow motion. The steering wheel slips through my hands like it’s got a mind of its own. My headlights splash across a fencepost, then a bush. The road. Another fencepost. Another bush. The road.

  I spin for what feels like an eternity before I come to a crunching stop. The force of the impact jerks me sideways. A mass of white nylon explodes in my face, absurdly surprising. My seatbelt sears as it bites into my shoulder. Then I’m slammed back, against my seat.

  I wait for my life to flash before my eyes. Isn’t that what they say happens? That you see scenes of your life playing out as you die?

  Wait. Maybe I should look for the bright white light instead.

  I hear a metallic ping as a rock bounces off the car.

  Then it’s quiet.

  I open my eyes—I didn’t even know they were closed—and look down. Am I still here? My body is here. No blood. Can I feel my hands? Yes. My feet? Yes. I scrabble at the air bag, suddenly frantic to get its parachute-like bulk off me.

  My head aches. I raise a shaky hand to touch it. No blood there either.

  The cops! Panicked, I look in the rearview mirror. But then I remember. They gave up the chase a long way back.

  My back window is blackened, covered with something.

  It’s blood.

  I scream.

  How could it be blood? Holy, Jenessa. Bring it down a notch.

  I shake my head to clear it. I turn around in my seat and find that the car is jammed, butt-first, into one of the thick hedges lining the road. Leaves cover the rear windows. My engine’s off, but my headlights point across the road, lighting up the posts of a barbed-wire fence on the other side.

  Saved by a shrub.

  I close my eyes again and rest my head. I stay that way for a long time.

  I need a smoke.

  I open my eyes and look around. One of my flip-flops is on the dash. My cigarettes are on the passenger-side floor, jumbled up with all the other stuff that sprayed out of my purse when I crashed. I grab them and paw through the pile for my lighter. It takes me three tries with hands that are shaking, but I manage to pick up the lighter too. The red light on my BlackBerry is flashing.

  Leave a message, I think. I’m busy.

  Then I laugh. I laugh and laugh like a broken windup toy, high and shrill and never-ending.

  Eventually I stop. The silence folds in again, pressing on me.

  I’m suddenly seized by panic. The sense that I’m drowning. I need air.

  I need to get out of here!

  I open my door, half afraid I won’t be able to climb out. But I do. Literally. Climb out. My legs won’t hold me up. They’re working, but they refuse to straighten, refuse to stand. It doesn’t occur to me to watch out for other cars as I crawl around on the road. I crab-clutch around in a half circle until my back is leaning up against the driver’s-side door.

  With fingers that feel as thick as tree trunks, I fumble at the flip-top on the pack of cigarettes. My fingers won’t work. They disobey my commands. In frustration, I smash one fist across the top of the pack, and the cigarettes fly out, scattering on the gravel in front of me. I have to use two hands to pick one up. It breaks. I bulldoze back in for another one. It gets bent, but I manage to put it between my lips, where it shakes. Jibber jibber jibber.

  I grab my lighter—trusty Zippo, lights in rain or wind—and spin the flint wheel with my wooden fingers. Miraculously, it lights. The end of my cigarette dances around, dipping in and out of the golden flame in my hands. I try holding it, but I can’t still myself enough to light it.

  Enraged, I yank the cigarette out and chuck it away. I throw the lighter, too, as far as I can. It lands with a solid thump somewhere in the tall grass.

  Like I’ll find that again.

  I struggle to my feet, furious at myself. I try to take a step, but my legs feel like they’re made of lead. I kick at the cigarettes that litter the road, breaking them and scattering them farther.

  Screw it, I think at them. I’m done with you then.

  I kick at the gravel. Then I bend down and grab up a scoop of it. I throw it. I do it again. And again. Dimly, I realize that I’m screaming.

  When I’ve cleared away all the gravel I can reach, I stop. My arms are tired. My throat is sore. My face is hot. I lean my back against the car, breathing heavily.

  The silence returns, pressing against my head, my ears, my brain. I see Adrienne.

  Adrienne, who always went along with me when I pushed her to take stupid risks.

  Adrienne, who never said no to my challenges.

  Adrienne, who wanted to prove to me that she was up to it. Who didn’t want to disappoint me or make me angry.

  Adrienne, who could be here right now. But isn’t. Because of me.

  My legs buckle under me. I slide down the side of the car until I’m sitting on the ground again.

  There, with the first pink of dawn warming the horizon, I bury my face in my hands and cry.

  Chapter Fifteen

  That’s it. I’m out.

  I’m going to come back out to the stage next week and tell Cody I’m done. He’s a jerk anyway. Too bad I didn’t recognize it sooner. Well, I did, but…

  What the hell was that, turning tail as soon as the cops showed up?

  I shudder to think of the excuses I’ve made for his behavior. The pushing. The name-calling. The rough touching and kissing that left me violated instead of turned on. Giving me no choice but to drink, and then forcing me to drive.

  Ness, he never forced you. You did all that because you didn’t want to make him angry. These are the choices you’ve made.

  Yeah, well. I’m making new choices now. And I choose to tell Cody to go take a flying leap.

  I wipe my face on my shirt and look around. I’m amazed that no one seems to use this road. Then again, it’s six in the morning. Who’s going to be out at this time on a Saturday?

  I heave myself to my feet and look at the car. I apologize to it, stroking its already cooling metal as I take a walk around. There’s not much damage, actually. Other than a couple of big scratches against the rear fender and across the trunk, it looks okay. No flat tires.

  I climb into the driver’s side and start it up. The engine catches right away. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  I ease out of the hedge with a crunching, scraping sound and turn toward home. Ahead of me, the sky is orange. The sun’s pink rays are hitting the high clouds, lighting them up like fish scales. It’s bloody beautiful.

  I am thankful, so thankful, to be alive.

  Why do I get another chance?

  I catch it just in time, slamming on the brakes and flinging open my door.

  Right there, in the middle of the road, with the new day in front of me and the old one behind, I puke until my chest hurts.

  I’m going to tell Cody I’m out. And then I’ll call Dmitri to apologize. There’s no reason he should forgive me for being so unkind, but I want to try. I want to do things the right way from now on.

  On the following Friday, I pull into the stage. I’m shivering a bit. Worried about how Cody will take the news.

  Then I remember. I have no reason to be nervous. If anyone does, it’s him. He’s the one who bailed on me last week when the cops turned up. He must know I’m pissed.

  I get out of the car and wait for Cody. He’s talking with Mark. Not so much as a glance my way. He takes his
sweet time to finish his conversation, and then he turns and saunters toward me with a half grin.

  Headlights splash us as another car arrives.

  Cody looks, and his grin falters. I glance behind me at the car that’s pulling in.

  My breathing stops when I see what it is.

  A ’69 Camaro.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Dmitri!” I say as he climbs out.

  Cody looks from Dmitri to me. “You know this guy?” he asks me.

  I ignore him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Seeing if you’re okay,” Dmitri replies. “Which I’m not sure you are.”

  I’m thunderstruck. “How did…” I shake my head. “How did you know I was here?”

  He raises his eyebrows.

  Oh. Right.

  Cody’s voice is sharp. “How do you know this guy?” He’s talking to me, but his eyes are on Dmitri.

  Dmitri answers him. “I’d say we know each other pretty intimately,” he says. “Wouldn’t you, Jenessa?” His eyes are locked on Cody. I feel a rush of warmth at his words.

  But they’re the wrong ones for Cody’s ears.

  When Cody speaks, his voice is different than usual. Tighter.

  “Get off my turf, Dmitri,” he says.

  Dmitri shakes his head. Smiles a little.

  Man, he’s brave.

  “Still mine, Cody. Remember?” he says. “You never earned it.”

  Silence has fallen around the beer cooler. The other guys are watching the two alpha males circle each other, teeth bared.

  “You gave it up,” Cody snarls.

  “I prefer to think I outgrew it,” Dmitri replies. “I see you haven’t been so lucky.”

  Cody grabs me, holding me tight with his arm around my waist. I try to step away from him, but he’s got me locked.

  He’s telling me I’m going to pay for this later.

  Dmitri looks at me. I try to send him a message with my eyes, but I know there’s no way he would understand it. Not with the way I treated him last week.

  Dmitri looks back at Cody, but not before I see the hurt.

  Then I speak. “It’s nothing, Dmitri.” I shake my head slowly, my eyes on his. “This”—I look at Cody —“is nothing.” My voice cracks on the word.

  I feel Cody stiffen and look at me.

  “What the hell are you saying?” he says. “What do you mean, this is nothing?” I feel his hand draw itself into a fist. “I made you, bitch. You owe me.” He spins me to face him.

  Suddenly I snap. I jerk my hips away from Cody’s iron grasp. Shove my face into his. “I don’t owe you anything,” I hiss. “I made myself. Bitch.”

  The shock on Cody’s face is almost comical. He stands with his fists balled up by his sides. Fighting himself.

  Dmitri looks at me for a long moment, then nods. Once.

  Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he does understand something about this.

  Something about me.

  He nods toward Cody’s car. “Got a nice set there,” he says.

  Cody’s head whips in Dmitri’s direction. “Better than your disco piece of shit,” he growls.

  Dmitri smiles. “Think so? What’ve you got? A few hamsters in there?”

  I hear Bibs bark a laugh behind me. He grunts when someone elbows him in the ribs.

  “Dmitri…,” I say. He doesn’t hear me.

  Cody’s eyes narrow at Dmitri’s comment. I can see him shaking. This isn’t good. I’ve never felt him so angry. I can smell his sweat. Sharp and acrid.

  Cody takes a step toward Dmitri. His shoulder hits me, hard. I stumble back but catch myself on my car.

  He walks toward Dmitri until they’re no more than half a foot apart. In a low voice, he speaks two words that fill me with terror.

  “Get in.”

  No! No!

  My brain screams the word over and over, but my tongue refuses to unglue itself from the roof of my mouth. Like I’m in a dream, I watch Dmitri walk back to his car and slide in behind the wheel.

  No! Dmitri, I’m done! I’m out! I’m not racing anymore. I only came to tell Cody that I’m finished!

  This is for me. He’s doing this for me.

  Because I said he was afraid.

  Because he wants to show me he’s up to it. That he’ll take the risk to prove it to me.

  What kind of monster am I?

  I feel sick.

  But no. I know better. I know now that he is a street racer, that he ruled the scene. This scene. And that he left this scene…and moved on.

  He doesn’t have to prove anything to me. He already has. So much.

  The Camaro roars to life. It punches through my foggy thinking. “Dmitri!” I scream.

  I have to tell him how wrong I’ve been.

  I start toward his car. Suddenly the world is spinning around me. I have to bend down and put my head between my knees so I don’t pass out. I will myself not to puke. I hear Mark’s voice. I feel his hands, helping to steady me.

  When I look up again, Rishad’s stepping up with the flag. I burst into tears and throw Mark off. I run toward the cars, desperate to talk some sense into Dmitri.

  I can’t let him go out there alone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rishad drops the flag. The two cars burn out, squalling, leaving me on the line, panting and sobbing.

  “Hey.” Rishad appears beside me. “Ness. It’s cool. Let them go.” He puts his arm around me. “This has been a long time coming.”

  “No!” I scream. I throw off his arm and he backs away, palms raised.

  “Okay, okay,” he says. His voice is soothing.

  “No!” I shriek again. “This. Is. Not. Happening!” I stomp my foot with each word. “This is not happening!” I snatch the flag from Rishad’s hand and throw it onto the road. It clatters away into the darkness.

  I sound like a lunatic, even to my own ears.

  I whirl and run for my car. Mark’s voice follows me, shouting at me to stop. I yank open the door and slam myself into the seat, starting it up. I roar away from the shoulder, narrowly missing Rishad as I dive onto the highway.

  The road lines flash past as I tear along. I don’t have a hope of catching them. I don’t know what I’d do even if I could. But I can’t just…wait. And do nothing.

  The taillights rocketing along ahead of me draw farther away, but I can still see both cars clearly. Just when I’m thinking they’ve reached the end line, I see Cody take a sharp swipe at Dmitri’s car.

  Is he…? But that car is Cody’s baby!

  Their side panels connect. I watch, horrified, as the Camaro jerks sideways. Toward the concrete median.

  “No!” I scream.

  Cody backs off, then rams Dmitri again. I’m crying now, the tears slick on my face. Salty on my lips. Cody holds Dmitri, grinding against him. I’m close enough to hear the crunching sound their side panels make as they connect. Metal on metal. I scream again as Cody pushes the Camaro toward the center divide.

  I watch in horror as Dmitri swerves inward, closer toward the concrete blocks. What the hell is he doing? He’s going to kill hims—

  SMASH! Dmitri whips away from the median. Cody takes a hit. His car skips, but he doesn’t hit the brakes.

  This is going to get ugly.

  I see Cody veer out, toward the edge of the highway. I know what he’s thinking. He’s going to wind up and plow Dmitri. And Dmitri’s going to crash into the median.

  And then he’s going to die.

  He’s doing this for me.

  Cody comes back for the kill.

  “N-o-o-o-o-o-o!” The word roils up, torn from the center of my core, bursting from my throat in a hysteria-fueled wail that goes on and on without stopping.

  I see the skier again, plowing into Adrienne.

  I’m no lightweight.

  I see her skidding across the snow, pushed by the force of his strike.

  Lesser boarders get hurt.

  I see the tree in front of her, her body
hurtling toward its unyielding solidness.

  Innocent people get killed.

  I see—

  No!

  Dmitri’s brake lights.

  What?

  I let off the gas. Dmitri falls back. I slow, keeping pace behind him. My heart is thrumming out some sort of crazy tribal rhythm, but I feel my airway open up a bit. He’s falling back.

  Bowing out.

  Expecting to find Dmitri but finding nothing but open air, Cody’s car lunges toward the median. He corrects, but not before his front end grazes the concrete dividers. A shower of sparks erupts from his nose.

  And then I see a beautiful thing.

  A police cruiser—probably the same one that chased me last week—bursts from the ditch behind us. He rips past us without a sidelong glance, pounding after Cody’s car with his lights on and siren blaring.

  I feel a stab of relief. They’re not after me. Or Dmitri.

  The relief gives way to a sudden delicious satisfaction.

  If they catch that asshole, they’re going to crush his ride.

  If he doesn’t crush himself first, I think, and shudder.

  In front of me, Dmitri slows some more. I follow suit.

  He pulls off on the shoulder and I roll to a stop behind him, shaking. My entire body is shaking like I’ve been shot full of nerve poison. The tremors roll out of my center, one after another, causing my teeth to chatter and my hands to tremble on the wheel.

  I fumble with my parking brake and take my foot off the clutch. The car jerks forward into a stall, and I shriek. I’m not thinking straight.

  When the engine is finally quiet, I rest my head against the steering wheel. It’s all I can do.

  I soak up the silence for a few moments. A car door closes, but I can’t be bothered to look up.

  I take a deep breath. Another. Another.

  Steady. Come back to earth, Jenessa.

  I hear feet crunching on gravel. Another car door opens.

  Dmitri’s voice reaches me from a million miles away.

  “Looks like they’ve been waiting for him.” He’s holding my door open, leaning on the frame. I don’t lift my head. Instead, I stare at his leg. His boot. The little crack in the sole right where it connects with the toe. The dust around the stitching.