Chapter 41 Maybe We Just Don't Tell Him
The car jolts as the sound shoots through the air. The squeal of the brakes cuts through my body uncomfortably as the three of us start whipping our heads round, trying to spot what the sound is, and where it has come from.
“Hey, guys what do you–” My question is interrupted by the sound of a second, third and fourth bang, the car jolting again. I swallow as I realise what is happening.
Gunshots.
“Nora get DOWN!” Marcus yells at me, and I instinctively move at his order, curling myself into the foot space, while Harlan starts speeding down the road. “How long?”
“5 minutes to the freeway, another 15 until we’re there!” Harlan shouts back, doing his best to swerve in and out of traffic, the gunshots echoing in the streets around us, alongside the screams of the pedestrians. None hit our car for a strained few seconds, not until one hits the window, cracking the glass and making me scream automatically, until I look up and realise that it hasn’t penetrated through.
“The cars are bulletproof?!” I yell at the guys, who just shrug at me as if to say ‘well yeah?’
I hear Marcus in the front seat clicking and shifting, getting his gun ready, and I sit up a little.
“Give me one.” I say.
“Nora I am not–”
“Give me a fucking gun!” I order.
He just narrows his eyes at me, as if debating it in his mind. But I don’t have time to wait for the outcome.
Instead I just groan, then reach to the side of me, to the seats I have just been sitting on, and pull them down, giving me access to the boot.
Shuffling along, I move the bags until I find one of Marcus’s. If I am right, Marcus would bring more than one gun. No mobster has only one gun.
“What are you doing?” Marcus hisses, glancing over at me before looking back out of the windows, his gun poised in one hand, the other on the window controls.
I ignore his question, rummaging through his bag until my hand hits hard metal, and I grab it. Another handgun, just as I think. I check the magazine, seeing it empty, and continue rummaging until I find the box of bullets tucked down the side. I rush to load it, when the noise inside the car changes.
I can now hear the whoosh of the wind whizzing past me, clear as day, and I look up to see Marcus has opened the window right above my head, and is leaning over the seats, aiming his gun towards it. Burrowing my head back down, I shove the rest of the bullets into the magazine before loading it back into the gun, and click the safety off, loading the chamber with the first round.
“You take that side.” I command Marcus, pointing to the side he is already sitting on, and I shuffle over to the window that he’s already opened.
He looks like he is going to regret this, but he obeys me and twists round to focus on his side. I slowly start sitting up, peeking my head out of the window, and look out, trying to pinpoint where the shots are coming from.
I duck when the shots ring out again.
“Nora!” Marcus yells, whipping round to face me.
“I’m fine!” I shout back.
Moving my head back up, gun poised, I aim for roughly where I hear the bullets coming from. Then, through the traffic Harlan is expertly weaving us through, I see it. A black car, all too similar to the one I am currently in, matching my speed, just a little bit behind me in the other lane.
Aiming the nozzle out of the window, my face mostly hiding behind the door, I wait for an opening, a clear stretch of road with no cars in between us.
Then I fire.
I hear the clash of the bullet against the metal of the car, and curse myself, knowing I’ve missed my target.
“Heading on the freeway guys!” Harlan calls out, whipping round a sharp corner.
The sounds of other cars heighten as we drive up the ramp. Moving so that I can see behind me, gun still out of the window, I watch the other car come up behind us, gaining speed and quickly closing the distance.
“Harlan, I’m gonna need you to go a bit faster.” I urge as he joins the rest of the traffic.
Thankfully he hears me, and I feel my speed click up and up as the distance starts stretching out again between us and the other car.
Then they start switching lanes.
Instead of behind us, they go one, two lanes beside us, then speed up until they are almost side by side. Keeping my head out of shot, I aim my gun at the windows, wanting to test whether they also have a bullet proof car.
Two shots and a shattered window later, I determine that they do not.
Marcus is trying to aim at them around Harlan’s head, with Harlan leaning over slightly to give him the best range. I keep my arms steady, gun resting on the edge of my window, and I fire.
I see one person slump over in the backseat, and I am determined to get the others in the same way. But with the rest of the freeway traffic, and the angle I am at, it would be difficult.
So I think of something else.
“Harlan!” I yell.
“What?!”
“When’s the next exit?”
“Half a mile!”
“Take it.”
“What? Why?” Marcus asks as we all duck from them firing a round of bullets.
“Trust me. Get over, and when I say now, speed up and take the exit!”
They say nothing else after that, and I assume it is indicating their agreement.
Readjusting my aim, I breathe deeply before firing at my new target.
One, two, three, four shots.
Right in their tyres.
The first tyre at the back blows, and the car screeches, but it doesn’t lose balance. The second tyre, the front tyre, explodes when the bullet tears through it, and they start wobbling.
“NOW!” I shout at Harlan, who hits the accelerator and swerves onto the exit ramp, while I turn around to watch the car veer across the lanes uncontrollably, sparks and smoke pouring out from where the tyres are now just metal on asphalt, other cars braking, honking around them.
The exit twists, taking them out of my view, and I lean back and breathe.
I hear the guys just breathing into the air as well, all of us trying to comprehend the last 4 minutes of intensity.
“Well,” Harlan breaks the silence. “That was interesting.”
Marcus and I laugh at him, and then Marcus looks round at me.
“Are you okay?” He asks, after his laughter dies down.
“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.”
“They were on us from the start.” Harlan says, slowing down to an appropriate speed as he glances around, trying to work out where to turn next. “I saw three black cars as soon as we turned onto the main road. One turned off, then the second. I thought we were safe.”
“Not your fault.” Marcus comforts, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“I’m pretty sure most of this is my fault. Or David’s.” I chime in.
“Don’t tell him that.” Harlan laughs. “And maybe don’t tell him that you joined in with the shooting, hey?” He asks, catching my eye in the rear-view mirror and winking at me. “You best take that gun off her before we get there.” He directs to Marcus, who turns to face me and holds his hand out.
Reluctantly handing over the gun, I put the seat back up and slouch against it.
“Can’t have a gun, can’t stay in the apartment, it’s like a bloody prison out here.” I scoff, but I know they know I’m only teasing. “Reckon our detour has added much to the journey?” I decide to ask.
“Actually, I think it’s saved us a little time.” Harlan answers, looking around before making a turn. “Should be 10 minutes, max.”
“I’ll tell David.” Marcus says, getting his phone out. “About us being 10 minutes away, not about you shooting.”
“Maybe we just don’t tell him about the shooting at all?” I offer.
They laugh at me, but I have a sneaky feeling that they weren’t going to tell David the whole truth anyway.
Harlan was right – it is only 10 more minutes before he stops the car and tells us both that we’ve arrived.
I look out the window, seeing a more rural set of houses, set back a little from the roads, trees on either side, all spaced apart. Very different to the blocks of flats I have become used to.
I get out of the car, grab my bags from the trunk, and follow Harlan down the path, Marcus following behind us both. When we are all but a few steps from the front door, it swings open.
David stands in the doorway. With a murderous look on his face.