Chapter Twenty-Seven: Fall Hard, Fight Forever-6

I could see the glaring orange signs as we crested a high point on the road, clustered in the spot where the concrete barriers that normally divided the freeway were temporarily replaced with white and orange plastic construction barrels. There was a small crew of men in neon safety vests milling about it, blocked from traffic with a big truck on each side of the median line that had these huge electronic orange arrow signs pointing drivers to move over to the right lane. What the hell was Lola proposing we do? "Don't worry, we have a destination, Max-hell," she added almost sweetly. "Now put your foot on it and drive." "No!" I protested, sharply swerving away from the lane. The cold barrel of the gun shoved against my temple now, stealing my breath for a second as I waited for that infinitesimal change in the chaos of sounds that would tell me my head was about to blow. When it didn't, I turned to glare at Lola. "I'm not going to commit suicide for the both of us!" "Fine," she said with a shrug before swinging the gun over toward the windshield. "I'll keep shooting people until you do." A shot cracked in the air before glass exploded everywhere. Screams broke out from all directions-including me. I had turned my head away on instinct, avoiding most of the glass from my eyes although some of them were now biting into my skin. Through the wrecked windshield, I could see the huddle of construction workers in front of us who were frantically dashing around a figure on the ground. "Oh, God," I choked, tears burning in my eyes as I steered hard to the left, pushing the car through a narrow gap of cones and diving right into the left-most lane of the opposing traffic. It was either that or another innocent bystander went down. "Glad you're paying attention, Max," Lola cheered as if she hadn't just shot somebody. My stomach lurched. "Now, keep driving." I considered jumping but I would probably either get shot first or run over by several vehicles going highway speeds before I could even hit the ground. And that would only leave Lola behind the wheel, determined to kill herself and anyone else who was in her way. Steeling myself against my fast-narrowing window of survival, I drove like a maniac, swerving left and right to dodge vehicles coming down the opposite way. The other drivers were doing their best to avoid me, yelling through their windows and honking at me all the way up to heaven. I could hear a faint police siren in the distance, slowly gaining volume. I had the strangest thought that it was the symphony of mine and Lola's impending deaths, building up a crescendo that would eventually peak at the fiery crash of rubber and steel and smoke. "Do you hear her screaming and crying, Luke?" Lola sneered on the phone. "Does it feel like you're being ripped inside out, knowing that you're listening to her last few moments in this world and not being able to do a damn thing about it?" "Luke, I love you!" I didn't even recognize my own voice. It was more like the hoarse, anguished shout of an already dead woman. This was Luke's ultimate nightmare-losing me in the same way he almost lost himself and Elise once. Of somehow hurting me without meaning to. "Shut the fuck up, Max!" Lola hissed, striking my right cheek with the side of the gun, the pain reverberating all the way up to my skull. "I want you to remember that, okay, Luke?" I kept shouting, tears streaming down my face. "I love you! That's all I want you to remember! I just... In case... " My voice trailed off, fading mostly into myself as I admitted my death sentence. "In case I don't make it." I wish I could hear his voice, hear him say my name one last time, but I changed my mind quickly. I didn't want his devastated screams to be the last thing I heard in this life. I would rather take with me the memory of his soft, husky voice and the low, sweet rumble of his laughter. "Here's our big ride, Max," Lola said as she dropped the phone on the floor and grabbed the right side of the steering wheel. A large, red ten-wheeler truck was up ahead, its driver probably still unaware that we were heading straight for him. I want more than just memories. I want to live. I yanked the wheel over to the left to counter-steer Lola and when her left arm flailed back with the inertia, just past the headrest of my seat, I hurled my right arm backward until it hit the inside of her forearm. The gun clattered somewhere to the floor. She screamed and grabbed a thick lump of my hair, trying to slam my head against the side window as we wrestled for the steering wheel. Vehicles were desperately trying to get out of our way but the red truck had no clearance on the lane beside him to move. "I'm not going to fucking die with you today!" I hissed at Lola before bashing my head against hers hard. Through the splitting pain, I tore her hand off the steering wheel and cranked as hard as I could to the left, spinning the car around into a sharp U-turn through a narrow gap on the left lane. Finally facing the right way, I jammed down on the gas and veered the car to the right shoulder, turning away with no more than an uttered prayer as I let the right side of the car slam into the low concrete railing that bordered the edge of the freeway.