"Just stop your crying
It'll be alright
They told me that the end is near
We gotta get away from here"
- Harry Styles, "Sign of the Times"
Chapter Forty-Nine
Something was wrong.
I'd driven a car enough to know that when the brake was pressed, the car was supposed to slow down—not speed up.
We were flirting with dangerous speeds, especially on these particularly curvy and narrow roads found on that stretch of interstate. The car only seemed to be speeding up even as Reed jammed his foot down on the brake. Reed cursed, and his hand flew to the screen in front of us, jabbing at it until it lit up. The outgoing call hummed in the car speakers as Reed took us around a precarious curve. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and I looked down to see I was gripping the seatbelt with one hand, and the handle above my head with the other. As the car whipped around another bend, I was reminded why it was called an 'oh shit' handle.
The call rang three times before a voice filled the car with sound, and me with relief. "Ramos."
"Pull up vehicle 2213 now!" Reed's voice boomed immediately.
I heard a shuffle on the other side of the line before Beck's voice returned. He didn't immediately ask questions, knowing instead from experience to follow orders first in case it was urgent. And from Reed's tone of voice, I figured we were all on the same page about the state of emergency.
"Pulling it up now. I see you, I've got your location. What are you doing out there?" Beck cut himself off with a sharp inhale. "And why are you going seventy miles per hour and rising?"
"The brake's not working. Slow us down!" Reed ordered, gritting his teeth as he wrestled with the wheel around a sharp curve.
I could hear computer keys clicking on the other side of the line. "Us? Who else is with you?"
"Avery, and we're still gaining speed. The car isn't listening to commands. Can you slow us down, and figure out if it's mechanical or computer?"
"What the hell is going on?" Beck murmured to himself after a moment, distracted as he disregarded Reed. The sound of keys being forcefully hit was getting louder. "I programmed my own openings into our car's defenses. I should be able to remotely gain control... so why the hell is the car and it's effing programming acting like this?"
I don't think we were supposed to hear that.
My mind stumbled on the programming part. I knew from my brother-in-law that some cars could be remotely controlled or drive themselves. I wasn't an expert in technology, but all cars had varying levels of programmed commands to follow. From self-driving cars to simpler vehicles, cars had computers controlling its various parts. Computers to control the brakes, airbags, automatic transmission, locks, climate control, and more. Risk was higher these days for vulnerabilities, especially the fancier cars churned out in modern times with higher levels of technology engrained in their build. Especially this car, with its screen nestled next to the dashboard, and its fancy tech. As a Greystone vehicle, Beck had given himself access to control the cars; he should have been able to slow us down. Our car was fortified.
And apparently unresponsive.
Or maybe only unresponsive to us.
My stomach jolted. Whether due to the sharp drop we'd narrowly avoided—or the realization there could be someone else controlling the car, I wasn't sure. Because my brother-in-law had said something else; something about how car hacking was a new concern, hard to do but not impossible.
"BECK!" Reed's voice rumbled louder as the car gained more speed.
"It's not working." Beck's voice was gritty and concentrated, frantic noise bustling on the other side of the call. "I'm not in control of the car."
"Neither am I; this car is doing whatever the hell it wants." Reed grunted, fighting the wheel. The wheel didn't want to listen, but Reed didn't want us to die.
"No," Beck paused, realization dawning—the same realization I'd shoved away moments ago. "It's doing what someone else wants."
Heavy silence settled for only a moment, my gut dropping again in one fell whoosh. Hearing Beck confirm someone else was controlling the car ramped up the fear that'd already sent my heart running.
"What?" Reed's voice was deadly calm, almost incredulous.
Beck paused for a moment, presumably checking to confirm his suspicions. When he spoke again, I could hear the answer we hadn't wanted in his tone.
"I programmed the defenses on Greystone's fleet. I built up the preexisting safeholds cars already have against this sort of thing. I don't know how it's possible. This shouldn't be possible. But I'm seeing commands that shouldn't be there." Beck sounded calm too, but it wasn't a good kind of calm.
It was a warrior calm. A calmness that settled in the heat of battle, the moment before death, the acceptance of realization. It was a calm achieved when your body, or really your adrenaline, had gone so high it morphed into something else entirely. The men were focused. They'd slipped away from me, changing into what Greystone demanded of them.
"Are you telling me someone hacked Greystone's cars?"
"No." Beck sounded angry now, hidden beneath that shallow layer of calm, as he slammed keys and tried to slow us down. "Someone hacked that car."
"Get whoever the hell out of the system then!"
"I'm working on it! They're good, they shouldn't have made it in at all," Beck exploded. I heard his sharp inhale as something smacked his brain to understanding. "Reed, the insider. They're doing this."
Beck's voice became distant then as he shouted orders over his shoulder. Men scrambled as they spread out through Greystone. I knew Beck's orders would be followed—laptops would be snatched, men yanked from computer chairs, analysts joining Beck in the battle of programmed codes.
Reed and I didn't have time to dwell on it, however, as the car fell victim to a new onslaught of commands. The windshield wipers sprung to life, full speed scraping across the windshield, and cleaner fluid began to spray. It became hard to see the road through the constant flow even as the windshield wipers swished back and forth. The radio turned on and fought with Beck's voice, threatening the stability of the call.
The doors to the car were already locked while we were driving, an automatic feature, but they sprung up and then down quickly. My fingers pried at the locks, but they wouldn't budge. We were locked in. Reed leaned forward, trying desperately to see the road, throwing his weight on the steering wheel to force it to turn. It was barely responding by then, sluggish and locked under his grasp. I knew he wouldn't have any control over the car soon, and he'd lose what little scrap he was currently fighting for.
"Reed! What do we do?" I panicked, still fighting with the locks.
"Beck, tell us what to do," Reed's voice was strained, his shoulders flexing with power as he contained the steering wheel.
"I don't know! Just stay on the road! I'm trying. I'm trying! Come on!" Beck's voice rose to a shout, and I heard what I really didn't want to hear at that moment—a drop of panic in Beck's voice. A desperate smidgen of panic that threatened to overcome him as he pushed it down, and tried to focus on the task of saving us.
It wasn't good when people like Beck and Reed panicked.
"I can't see shit," Reed announced grimly. Beck was cursing, frequently cut off by the radio flaring some jaunty pop song, but loud nonetheless.
"Whoever did this is a backstabbing, traitorous son of a bitch. Who the fu—"
Beck cut himself off. Stale silence rose up, and for a moment I thought the radio had won the battle. Then, Beck's unsteady tone returned.
"These credentials. They're administrative. The only people that have administrative credentials are..." Beck trailed off again. I could practically hear the gears grinding in his brain. A single look at Reed informed me those same gears were spinning in his head.
I saw the moment Reed realized; the moment he was thrust into an unwelcome revelation. Whatever it was, whoever was behind this, was someone Reed was very aware of. By the look on his face and the anger that consumed him, it wasn't just anyone at Greystone.
But I didn't get the chance to ask who.
Because Reed's eyes widened a little further at something out the window. I truthfully didn't want to look, but if I was going to die, I couldn't resist trying to see it when it came.
The scenic road we were on had a couple areas to pull off and take pictures, and the one we neared was the most popular of them all. A gorgeous spot a little way off from the road, where a car could park next to the guardrail and pictures could be taken of the wide valley below. The road curved sharply in front of this area, and a driver could either follow the road, or ease gently forward to the lookout.
But we weren't going gently anywhere.
We wouldn't make the curve at those speeds; we wouldn't be able to stay on the road when we barreled forward. For a fleeting moment, I reassured myself with the reminder there was a guardrail, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Guardrails weren't designed to withstand cars going this fast, or cars built like this. It would slow us down, but there was no guarantee it would stop us.
We're going to die.
"Beck! You have less than a minute before this becomes a recovery mission instead of a rescue one," Reed warned. His eyes were still wide as they looked ahead, his foot still helplessly stomping on the brakes.
"What?" Beck breathed, before his cursing got louder. He must've looked at the map and seen our imminent drop-off.
"Reed."
My voice was quiet, almost too much so. Reed didn't seem to hear me over the disobedient actions of the car.
"Reed," I said louder. That time, green eyes swung to meet mine.
If this is when I die, I want to die looking at my favorite color, my favorite person, my favorite love.
"Avery."
For the first time ever, I heard a new waver under my name. My name was spoken with a million feelings, a million unsaid promises, and a million apologies; just like how his name was said when it fell from my lips.
"I love you," I promised. Tears prickled, but I swallowed them down. The fear and panic in my gut was blazing and it settled my body into shock; I was only vaguely aware of my imminent demise, but that vagueness was enough.
"I love you, too. We'll be fine." As much as he'd tried to, he hadn't sounded sure of his words; it'd sounded like a promise he couldn't keep but still made anyway. That was okay. I didn't blame him for making promises he couldn't keep, not right then. He seemed to need it; he was reassuring himself more than he was reassuring me.
"I love you," I repeated. I couldn't say it enough. I hadn't said it enough. I'd said it for the first time only the night before, and there hadn't been enough time to tell Reed as many times as he deserved to hear it. Even if I lived another fifty years, I wasn't sure there'd be enough time.
I was upset I'd never get to finish our puzzle. I'd never know who it was on Cruz's team or on Quentin's that betrayed us. I'd never know if aliens existed, if cancer would be cured, or if Van Gogh's Poppy Flowers would ever be returned after its theft. That was what bugged me the most about death—not necessarily all the things I wouldn't get to do, which was already upsetting enough, but all the things I wouldn't get to know.
What would Kennedy and Oliver name their kids? Kennedy had always sworn she'd have a daughter named Buttercup when we were five, but I didn't think that was at the top of the list anymore.
Who would take care of Rolo? Would he ever catch his tail? It was a long-time mission I'd always hoped I'd get to see the end of, preferably when it ended in success. I'd miss his antics, his wildness, his stubbornness.
Would my parents ever know it was me who knocked over the tv when I was ten? It was an accident, but I'd never come clean.
They were all tiny things—but they were things I'd never know. Questions I'd never have the answers to. Things didn't seem so small when realizing there'd never be the luxury of closure; suddenly they seemed like life's greatest mysteries, just out of reach. It didn't feel silly when it was an ultimatum.
Beck was still shouting, but I wasn't listening anymore. Only one of my senses was working. My eyes only had room for one person.
Reed looked at the road before meeting my gaze again. He was still fighting with the wheel, but in those short seconds we had left, we looked at each other. He still fought to the last second, and I admired him for that. I supposed I'd be thinking until my last seconds, not fighting.
But no more thoughts came. My mind was blank and content as I looked at my love. Somehow, I'd accepted this and given in to the yearning for peace before death, in case there wouldn't be any after. I didn't know what came after, but I'd enjoy what peace I could before I found out.
"Hold on! I almost got it!"
Reed's eyes didn't blink or budge at Beck's command. I couldn't read his expression, but I saw the love in his eyes. I saw the goodbye that tugged at his lips, and I saw his eyes begin to close as we neared that jagged drop off. I wanted to ask him to keep looking at me, so I could reside in that green before everything became black, but I knew he didn't want to see it. He didn't want to see it as it came. I couldn't blame him, and I wouldn't force him.
But just like those sleepless nights before—my eyes refused to close. They refused to grant me darkness before I'd be forced to accept it anyway. Before I had no choice on whether to keep them open, no choice over anything, my eyes refused to accept defeat and close before it was time. Instead, my eyes soaked in what they could.
Reed's tousled hair, messy from my fingers and our time in bed.
Reed's sharp jaw, curving harshly yet beautifully, where I'd peppered kisses the night before.
Reed's lips, that'd whispered his devotion and promises against my flushed skin, accepting my eager agreement and promises in return.
I soaked it in. How the sun touched his skin and lit up his features, illuminating the man who'd accepted my heart and thanked me for it—who'd cherished me for as long as he was able.
The drop off was seconds away.
Several things happened in those seconds.
Reed's eyes snapped open, thrilling me with green before they faced forward and his body lunged. He threw all of his weight on the wheel and wrenched, successfully jerking the car this time as Beck's voice boomed.
"I got it!"
The car groaned under Reed's command as power was relinquished to the driver. I felt us slowing down, a probable combination of Reed's foot on the brake and Beck's frantic typing—but we were too close, and still too fast.
The car twisted from Reed's jerking of the wheel, and rubber burned as tires fought for traction to slow us down. It was a blur of gnashing metal and howling brakes, a ride I couldn't get off of as dizziness choked my fear.
We got closer and closer and closer. Closer to the edge, the drop off, death.
It felt like forever existed in that short span of time. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but it was a lifetime as the valley opened its mouth to swallow us whole.
And several more things happened all at once.
The car met the guardrail in a horrible clash of metal. An arm appeared over me, thrown against my body as the airbags went off around us. Heat spiraled up my chest and arms and threatened to consume me as a loud crack sounded through the air. A scream ripped its way out of my throat; my seatbelt dug into my neck and my head slammed against the seat.
And just like that, the eyes that'd refused to close gave up.
I found myself falling. My eyes finally closed—and I was swallowed by darkness.
I love you, Reed Sterling.
Yes, cars can be hacked.
Yes, it's a terrifying rabbit hole to fall down online.
Yes, this was planned since the beginning.
I did say I have a tendency for cliff-hangers, didn't I?
Hope you're along for the ride still. We're almost there.
- H