Allie's War Season One (18 page)

...bastard’s doing it on purpose, forcing me to kill as many as he can...

When he looked at me next, anger still hardened his features.

Swallowing, I nodded, trying to let him see that I understood.

WE APPROACHED SEATTLE.

I glimpsed a skyline to my left, then flashes of buildings through a maze of overpasses dripping with dark green plants.

I recognized landmarks from being here with Jon, but couldn’t read signs with how fast we were going. I’d stopped looking at the speedometer by then, anyway.

Revik was doing something in that other place, so I couldn’t ask for his help to use his grid thing. I felt a few people point and stare at us as we passed. I also saw other vehicles hitting their turn signals and pulling over, moving out of the way of the line of cop cars screaming behind us, clearing the freeway for the chase.

I felt it when the third cop car ceased to be a pull toy between Revik and whoever else.

I felt Revik lose that battle, too, and felt him let go just before the cop accelerated, coming up on us blaring light and sound from his overhead siren. I glanced over in time to see the dark-skinned cop smile at Revik, making an odd flowing up and down gesture with one hand that had the flavor of a taunt.

Whatever it was, it definitely didn’t look human.

Then, whatever held the cop’s body let go, leaving the cop sweaty-faced, determined, and completely focused on the two of us. From his eyes, he fully believed we’d killed his whole family with baseball bats then lit his house on fire.

Revik turned to me, his pale eyes hard.

“Stop the car,” he growled.

I thought I’d heard him wrong. “What?”

Behind him, I saw the Seattle cop raise a shotgun.

Before I could react, Revik grabbed the wheel, jerking it sideways to slam into the cruiser. The cop dropped the shotgun, and I heard his partner yelling excitedly.

“Revik, jesus! What are you—”

“Take that exit! Now, Allie!”

He pointed and I veered, braking to slide across lanes.

I saw the truck driver in the blue flannel shirt, who was still, amazingly, behind us, begin the turn to follow. I glimpsed faces as other, noninvolved drivers reacted, too, their eyes widening in fear as they tried to get out of my way, instead coming even more dangerously close to hitting us.

By some miracle, I slid behind the Washington cop car, in front of a different trucker who honked madly at us.

Then we were past, wincing from the scrape of metal as the GTX grazed his grill.

Revik leaned out the window, firing at the Seattle cop from behind.

He blew out a rear tire with the first shot, smashed the back window with his second. He chambered another round and aimed again, blocking my side view when he climbed up to sit on the passenger side window.

The Seattle cop cut across multiple lanes and again I felt the difference; it was no longer a human driving, but one of those things with lightning-fast reflexes and 360 degree vision. I was forced to brake, saw Revik clutch the window frame as he lost his balance. The Seattle cop swerved, just making it onto the exit off-ramp behind us.

A sign flashed by, too fast for me to read clearly.

I glimpsed white words spelling “Mercer Island.”

Revik slid back in through the window, landing on the seat. When I looked over, his shoulder was bleeding again, a dark, spreading stain under his shirt.

“You are trained in basic firearms use?” he said.

“Right,” I said, loud over the wind and engine. “Dad taught me to shoot cans. I'm practically special forces.”

“Good.” He propped the gun up on the seat between us. “Use it if they get too close.” He added, “Or if I don’t come back.”

“What? Revik, that's not funny, I—”

His body slumped against the seat.

I cursed, swerved into a guardrail, and the GTX threw up sparks as metal grated metal. I gripped Revik’s bare arm in my stubby nails, hard enough to bruise his skin. I shook him, then wondered if I should hit him, like he had me.

“Revik! You've got to be kidding me! REVIK!”

Something smashed into the back of the car.

I was merging into the main sprawl of traffic on the new highway and the truck driver with the blue flannel shirt was in the next lane over. Pulling up alongside the GTX, he aimed the pump-action shotgun out his window.

I hit the brakes like Revik had done, and another cop car hit us from behind. That same cop car forced me along until I accelerated, and then the guy was honking, waving at me to pull over.

A rush of panic made me wonder what would happen if I did.

Even as I thought it, the first Seattle cop drew up next to me on my other side.

...and for an instant, I see him. A metal thread cage ensnares his light, and behind his eyes breathe the orbs of the Rook controlling him. They shine coal red, and he makes his thumb and index finger into the shape of a gun, pointing it at me as his lips stretch in a corpse’s smile.

Bang, bang, little girl.

I snapped out, still miraculously gripping the steering wheel...and feel them in me. They drag at me and I shriek, as if the sound of my own voice might keep my light in my body.

But I can feel myself separating out, losing control of my limbs.

Lowering my head, I bite down on my fingers. My teeth clamp on skin and bone and my light rushes in like a rubber band snapping back.

Pain came with the light. But clarity, too.

I un-clamped my jaw from the red crescent on my knuckles. Blood dripped over the steering wheel once I’d extracted my teeth, but all I could feel was relief.

Just then, everything went dark.

We’d entered a tunnel. My foot mashed down harder on the accelerator.

Orange lights streaked by in irregular lines as cars cast shadows on tile walls. Surrender no longer felt like a good idea. The Seattle cop’s eyes flash red and I realize I am still inside the Barrier, just enough that they are all around me.

I slam my head against the driver’s side window, hard enough to crack it. My head leaves an impact mark surrounded by spider web lines. I am losing it. I feel sick, anemic...like my blood leaches out of me as they pull at me.

I keep my foot jammed on the accelerator as I lean over and snatch at Revik’s seat belt, miss, grab for it again, hooking it in my fingers.

A car slams the GTX from behind, and I lose the silver buckle, curse.

The third time, I dragged the nylon belt over his body and hooked it into the clasp at his side. His skin glistened with sweat, but he looks overly pale.

I hit him with my fist, hard in the side of the head, trying to wake him.

In doing so, I lost control of the car, slamming into the guardrail, leaving more paint and metal as sparks flew before I got the car off the rail again.

Sunlight washed into my eyes, slanting through the windshield as we flew out of the second tunnel. Before me stretched a long bridge with water on either side. The ramp aimed straight for the lake’s surface where the bridge floated on top of the water.

I glanced at Revik.

“Mortal peril,” I muttered. “...Mortal peril.”

I didn’t think. Even so, I saw every flash of metal and sunlight as I swung the wheel. Veering behind a green Jetta, I made a straight line for the right guardrail, beyond which lay nothing but sky and the waters of Lake Washington.

A thick, protective rail stood between us and the water...

...but my mind seems to clasp it somehow, fold it, or maybe not my mind, but suddenly I can see through it...

...and we are through.

Exhilaration lifts me as the car soared.

Then gravity clutched the GTX at the top of the arc. Its nose tipped.

As water rushed to meet us, I could only hold onto the steering wheel, flashing to being on a runaway horse as a kid, where I’d clutched a mare’s black mane, screaming in fear and hysterical laughter. If a thought could have formed in my mind just then, it may have been about death...the transitoriness of all things.

Instead, there was a long, slow silence as the water rushed to meet.

THE GRILL SLAMMED into the surface of the lake with an enormous splash.

On the bridge, cars swerved, honking, slamming into one another.

An 18-wheeler’s brakes screeched as it followed the GTX’s trajectory towards the gap in the rail. A woman in a Toyota glimpsed round, rough-cut holes in the grill and front fender of that same truck as the metal trailer skidded past her view. It seemed about to follow the GTX over into the lake itself, when the driver swung the wheel, throwing the cab perpendicular as it slid towards the gap in the rail.

The truck’s trailer slammed metal, bending it outwards.

When it finally came to rest with a shudder, the cab faced north, like a dog peering over its shoulder.

In a daze, people exited their vehicles.

Several walked to the rail overlooking blue-gray water. The scream of sirens could be heard approaching from the other side of the tunnel; the dull thud of news and police helicopters grew audible overhead.

All of the onlookers simply stared down at the lake’s depths, at the rings of wavelets forming a perfect circle in the otherwise calm surface. They all looked at that same spot in the water in the center of those rings, searching for the thing they had witnessed smash through a two foot guardrail and fly out over an early morning sky.

But the GTX was nowhere to be seen.

10

SEATTLE