Thirty minutes passed, and then an hour. We all tried to ignore the frenetic tapping of Tommy's hands against his knees because we all knew our nerves were frighteningly high at this time. The city was getting sparser, and the background was getting more piney. I began to have hope that this was really happening- that maybe they could escape without a real fight. I should have known not to trust my feelings.
The sudden traffic up ahead should have been my first indication that something was up. That things weren't going to be as easy as 1, 2, 3.
"What's going on?" I finally asked aloud, heartbeat speeding up in anxious anticipation. It was Mick who answered bitterly, "A roadblock just for us."
"What are you planning to do now? You're supposed to be the one who can help us escape!" Nikki burst out angrily, and for a second I wondered if he was going to hit me- I remembered that I had told them they could trust in me to deliver them, and despair brought tears to my eyes. I know I had wanted to be the one to help them escape, but maybe I was wrong . . .
"I know, I know . . . I'm trying to think- wait, turn right now!"
"What do you mean 'turn'? There's no road?!" Nikki was practically shouting out of the panic at being so close to being caught.
"Just turn! Into the forest!" At my words, Nikki turned the car sharply so that we all were jerked to the side, and he said nothing more in argument with me when he realized I was right.
We were driving down a narrow dirt trail for hikers, and by the car's trembling and squeaking, I think we all feared it would fall apart at any moment. We were five minutes into focusing on not hitting any trees or foliage as if we were the ones driving when Tommy called out nervously, "Uh, guys? I think they're following us . . . "
"Whattya mean?" I turned around in my seat, straining to catch a glimpse of flashing lights or phantom shadows of men with guns in the trees behind us. I saw neither until I followed Tommy's panicked gaze up. Up to a freaking helicopter with a fluctuating search light. "Alright, everyone, we've got to ditch the car. They'll be on us and we'll be done for within a minute if we don't. They've got a chopper." I pressed my lips together- we just couldn't catch a break, but what else was I supposed to expect? After all, this was the elite of the world we were running from. The ones who owned everything.
The car jerked to a shuddering halt, and we all breathlessly scrambled out of the car, harshly breathing in the cool, fresh air that smelled of damp tree trunks and moss. A beautiful place that I would have loved to be in otherwise. Mick broke the silence. "Alright, which way do we go?"
I turned back to the group to find them all gazing at me expectantly. "Well, we keep going straight to gain as much distance from the main road as possible. Once we've gone a few miles, we'll lean left so that we're making distance in the other direction. Hopefully we'll find a place for shelter. Until then, it's just a race."
Sirens rose above the ambience, lilting with a whiny tone to them, declaring the presence of those sent to capture us under the guise of law and order. Breath catching in my throat, I began to run. I was pretty sure we were all running. I had never been chased before; never been truly afraid of death catching up with me so soon. Naturally, then, I had never guessed at the primal fear being chased would spark within me- the fear of the worst of nightmares that made any mental or physical pain nonexistent.
The trees whipped past me with a sharp gust of air, my feet pounded against the dirt, each intake of breath burned the inside of my nose. It was like my own consciousness wasn't in my body until Nikki was shouting, "Wait! Stop!" It took a split second for my mind to register who the voice belonged to, but my body didn't want to stop. I was still in flight mode, but with a pang of dread I skidded to a halt, having an idea as to why we were stopping.
Tommy was leaning over, hands braced on his knees as he gasped for breath, skeletal limbs jutting out from his clothing. Nikki seemed more composed than Tommy- and who wouldn't be better off than a bag of bones- although he was still panting and strands of black hair were plastered to his forehead with sweat. We were obviously waiting for Mick, who was struggling the most, eyes closeted so as not to let on that he was in pain. There was a certain darkness in his expression that made goosebumps crawl up my arms and legs when I realized what it was. He had given up.