Andrew Klavan - The Final Hour

I plunged over the edge of a ridge before I even knew the ridge was there. The next second, I was lurching downhill, my legs barely under control as my long strides carried me over the steep slope. I descended into a small flat with low hills on every side of me. I had no idea which direction was which, or what was up ahead. I just ran on, climbing up a slope, half upright, half slipping and sliding, my fingers digging for purchase in the mud.

I came over the slope and stood still for a second, panting. Trying to get my bearings, trying to see where I should go. There was nothing around me but hills-hills of dirt-and rain turning the dirt to sludge. The great dark clouds churned above me. Thunder rolled. Lightning struck with a snakelike hiss-a jagged electric line this time. It reached all the way down from the sky to strike the earth maybe a mile or so up ahead of me. I held my breath at the awesome sight of it.

The rain plastered my hair to my scalp. The water poured into my eyes and into my open mouth as I stood panting for breath. I shivered from the cold.

Finally, I chose a direction. I started running again.

I had taken only a single step when an engine roared and a pair of headlights came flying over the hill in front of me.

It was a massive Jeep, jumping the ridge. The sight of it froze me in my tracks. Where had it come from? We were far from any road, far from anything. There was nothing out here but me and the mud-and those glaring headlights and those monster tires and that grinning grille.

The next instant, the Jeep smacked down, throwing up sheets of dirt and water. At the same time, I started running again, my feet nearly skidding out from under me as I changed direction and tried to get out of the Jeep’s way.

The headlights bore down on me as I cut straight across them. The Jeep passed behind me so close, I felt the mud spatter over my back as I ran. I climbed desperately up the slope ahead of me as the Jeep, unable to stop, splashed up the slope to my left.

I heard its tires whining as they spun in the mud. I heard a voice begin to shout-or thought I did. But the next moment I could hear nothing but thunder.

As I reached the top of the ridge, I could feel the earth, turned to gushing mud, sliding away under my feet. I threw myself forward and rolled. Gasping for breath, covered head to foot in filth, I climbed to my knees, peering around through the blinding rain.

There was nothing to see-nothing in any direction but empty territory and boiling black clouds and the streaking downpour.

As the thunder died, I heard the Jeep’s tires spinning again. Then I heard them catch traction. I heard the engine’s roar grow throaty and deep. A moment later, I heard that roar getting louder and louder. The Jeep had finally turned around and was heading back toward me again.

I ran. My speed was gone now. My energy had at last given out. My legs were weak and wobbly beneath me. My lungs were burning. My wet, muddy clothes were so heavy I felt like I was wearing a suit of lead, dragging it through the storm. Only my will was still strong. I was determined not to surrender, determined to make them run me down, make them overtake me. The idea of being taken back to that prison was a living nightmare.

I stumbled on, my arms wheeling, my hands grasping as if to find purchase in the driving rain. The lightning snapped and flashed across the black sky. The Jeep’s engine strained as the car tried to make its way up the slope behind me.

I looked back over my shoulder just in time to see the dark rain go bright as those huge headlights crested the ridge. In the next second, the Jeep leapt into sight and plunged down into the mud, splattering dirt everywhere as it charged relentlessly after me.

I poured everything I had left into the next few seconds. But it was no good, no use. I was exhausted. I was done. The Jeep’s horn screamed at my back like the cry of a hungry animal. The engine roared louder as the big machine overtook my failing footsteps.

The next time I looked, the headlights were enormous, filling my vision. The Jeep was right on top of me, seconds from plowing over me.

I leapt to the side and, as I did, I lost my footing and fell. I went down into the mud, clawing at it, rolling, trying to stand. I heard the Jeep’s brakes shriek as its wheels locked. Scrabbling over the shifting, muddy ground, I saw the big vehicle go skidding past me through the mud, turning so that its headlights seemed to search for me in the night. The rain was so heavy the headlights blurred. The Jeep was almost invisible though it was only a few yards away from me.

Now, unable to stand, I started crawling. It was the best I could do. I clawed my way across the earth, my face inches from the mud, my hands and knees and feet sinking deep into the mess of it.

The Jeep had stopped moving. Behind me, I heard its door open and shut. The thunder rolled and the lightning flashed. When the noise subsided, I heard the wet footsteps of my pursuer. I saw his tall figure moving toward me in the glow of the headlights. I didn’t know whether he was coming to arrest or to kill me dead.

Finally, out of breath, out of strength, I collapsed into the mud. The footsteps came nearer and stopped. The Jeep’s driver was standing over me.

I lay where I was, panting into the earth. I couldn’t go any farther. I just managed to roll onto my back and peer up through the rain at the figure above me.

“Come on, chucklehead, get in the stupid car,” he said.

It was Mike.

Mike grabbed me under the arms and hauled me up. My legs felt like spaghetti, my lungs like fire. Mike half dragged me to the Jeep as I struggled to get my feet under me. When we reached the side of the vehicle, he pulled the door open and dropped me onto the passenger seat. He left me there to struggle the rest of the way in.

By the time I got the door shut, he was in the driver’s seat beside me. He didn’t say another word, just hit the gas. The tires spun and mud spat up around us. Then the rubber gripped the ground and the Jeep started moving through the rain.

I was curled up on my side, my cheek pressed into the seat back. My mouth hung open as I wheezed for air. The mud and rain were dripping off me.

My head was spinning with exhaustion. I wasn’t even sure this was really happening, that it was really real.

“Mike…?” I tried to say through my gasps. My voice was barely audible over the engine noise, even to me.

“There’s fresh clothes in back,” Mike said, working the wheel, staring hard through the windshield. “Get into them. There’s some food back there too.”

“Water…”

“Yeah, a couple of bottles.”

Desperate for a drink, I managed to find the strength to twist around and reach into the backseat. I found a water bottle. Sucked hard on the nozzle, swallowing gulp after gulp. Then I fell back weakly against the seat back again.

“What’re you…?” It took me two tries to finish the sentence. “What’re you doing here, Mike? How did you…?”

“Long story, chucklehead,” said Mike. “And right now, I’m busy trying not to drive into a ditch or get caught by the police. Take a break, change, eat, get some rest. I’ll get us out of here.”

So we were silent for a while. The Jeep bounced and skidded and juddered over the mud through the rain. The thunder crashed. The lightning split the sky. But it all seemed far away now, farther and farther away…

I wanted to change out of my wet, muddy clothes. I wanted to eat. But I couldn’t move. I was just too tired. My eyes sank shut. I felt the world sinking away from me…