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Car doors slamming and men shouting at each other echoed through the night. I couldn’t make out what they were saying over my racing heart, but I heard at least three voices. It made sense. Three to chase me, while the fourth drove around to try and cut me off. Even if it was only two chasing me, I still had to worry about encountering the SUV if I made it to a road.
Sadly for me, the trees didn’t last long. They tapered off, leaving me with a cornfield to navigate. Luckily, the farmer hadn’t harvested yet. Thank God for a wet summer.
I dove into the row of stalks. Angling my shoulders to the side, I tried to minimize the rustling as I ran. The musty leaves scratched my face, leaving tiny little stings in their wake. Fucking corn. God, I hated this miserable state! This is why I lived in acity.
Mud coated my boots in just a few steps. I was sure each one weighed thirty pounds by the time I doubled over at the edge of the corn, bracing my hands on my knees and trying to breathe. My left arm was fucking killing me. Pain radiated up and down it. I was pretty sure that meant I was having a heart attack, which would be super inconvenient. Call me stubborn or stuck up, but I refused to die in the mud like a peasant.
Refocusing on my escape, I peeked my head out of the last row of corn and peered around. More farmland. Goddamn it. I didn’t want to wait here until morning but my options were clearly limited.
A breath away from despondency, the most beautiful sound I ever heard split the night air.
A siren.
Red and blue lights flashed in the distance, illuminating a black and white pickup truck right before it disappeared behind a curve in the road.
A cop!
For the first time in my life I was overjoyed to see the police.
Ducking back inside the safety of the corn, I fought my way through the rows in the direction the squad went, using the siren and the lights as my guide.
Dropping down to one knee at the edge of the cornfield, I assessed the new terrain in front of me. It was an another open field. Great for running, bad for being a moving target.
Not to mention, I had no idea who the cop had pulled over in the car.
I squinted, trying to make out the vehicle in front of the pickup. There were only two things I could determine — it was small, and it was white. Not an SUV full of people coming to drag me back to a dirty basement for God knew what reason.
Now or never, Reeve.
I burst out of my hiding spot and sprinted across the open field, praying to God the cop didn’t leave before I got there and some bullet didn’t pick me off along the way.
The deputy was out of the truck, standing on the road, and so was the driver of the little car. They appeared to be in the middle of a field sobriety test, which meant they weren’t leaving soon. Thank God for alcoholics.
A light moved in my periphery. I stole a glance in that direction, already fearing the worst. It was another pair of headlights coming down the road at an unusually slow pace — like they were looking for something. Or someone.
Fuck me.
The SUV picked up speed and so did I. It was a race to the squad.
The cop, for his part, held up a finger to the man in the middle of a walk-and-turn test and headed back toward his pickup truck, one hand on his pistol and the other reaching for his radio. His attention, it seemed, was also focused on the SUV barreling down the road.
“Get down!” I shouted.
The cop looked at me before his head whipped back toward the SUV. It swerved in its lane, aiming right for the poor bastard.
There was a hard, thudding crunch and the unmistakable sound of tires rolling over a body.
Fuckfuckfuck!
The SUV continued on its way without slowing. They didn’t even hit their fucking brake lights.
Stumbling up the ditch, I collapsed against the side of the pickup. At the moment, trying to catch my breath seemed like an impossibility. Forcing a swallow down, I peered between the squad and the white car.
A hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed me.
I jerked back with a yelp.
The cop was alive. Holy Mary Mother of God, how the fuck was he alive?!
