Ryan Westfield - Final Panic

“Why’d you go that way?” shouted Jessica, above the sound of the engine.

The windows were down, and the air was blowing her hair around crazily.

“What?”

“Why’d you go this way?”

“Back to the lake house,” she heard him shout.

“You’re leading them back to the lake house?”

Rob flashed her a look. She could see it in his eyes. He was scared. And he didn’t know what he was doing.

Suddenly, the noise from the engine cut off.

The car started to slow down immediately. It wasn’t getting any power. It was just coasting along. Jessica may have not known a lot about cars, but she knew that.

Rob shot her a terrified look as he fumbled with the keys, the pedals, and the shifter.

No matter how hard or frantically he tried, he couldn’t get the engine started again.

“Shit,” was all he could say, over and over again.

Through the rear window, Jessica could see the motorcycle rapidly gaining on them.

There was just the slightest decline to the road. If they’d been headed uphill, they might be stopped already.

They must have been going at least a hundred miles an hour. They had a while before the Subaru completely stopped due to lack of momentum.

Rob was still having to turn the wheel, to keep them on the road. There was absolutely no power, and the power steering must have been dead. But their velocity still allowed him to turn the wheel easily enough.

“He’s gaining on us,” said Jessica. “Give me your gun.”

“Of course he’s gaining on us! We’ve got no power. We’re toast. What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to not lose our shit, that’s what we’re going to do. Now give me your gun.”

“What? You’re going to shoot him out the window? Like we’re in some movie?”

“Yes,” said Jessica. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Now for the last time, hand it over.”

With just one hand on the wheel, Rob handed over his gun.

Jessica checked it, felt the weight of it in her hands. It felt good to be armed again.

The Subaru was, little by little, decelerating. It wasn’t much, but it was perceptible.

Jessica didn’t know how long the road went on like this. It wasn’t like they’d have to stop if they came to a stop sign. But surely the slight downhill would end at some point, turning into a slight uphill.

Not that it mattered.

The biker had already closed the distance. He was maybe ten feet behind them.

And he was repositioning his shotgun.

It looked like he was trying to get the gun into position so that he could fire it at them while still riding the motorcycle.

“What’s he doing?” Rob’s voice was anxious. A little high-pitched.

“Trying to shoot us. Maybe blow out a tire.”

“Right now?” Fear in his voice, ducking his head down a little.

“He’s not going to be able to make it. This isn’t the movies. There’s no way he can ride that thing one-handed.”

Jessica was getting into position, trying to get to where she could get as far out the window as she needed to be.

But it was harder than it looked, and it seemed that to get the angle on the shot she’d need, she’d have to be really hanging out of the Subaru. And that didn’t seem possible, unless she wanted to fall.

Again, this wasn’t the movies.

“Aren’t you going to shoot him?”

“I can’t get the angle.”

“Why not?”

“Just shut up and drive.”

This wasn’t the time to have to explain everything to Rob.

Jessica was again spun around in her seat, watching the guy on the bike.

He was close.

Very close.

Still fumbling with the shotgun.

What an amateur.

Suddenly, Jessica had an idea. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. Or Rob, for that matter.

“OK, Rob. You’ve got to listen to me.”

“What?” Rob’s voice made it sound like he was losing control. And that’s not what would help them right now. But there was no time to get him calmed down. He just needed to be able to follow her instructions.

“Just do what I say. No arguing. OK, on the count of three, you’re going to hit the brakes. And hit them hard. Really slam on them.”

“The brakes? The car’s off. They’re not going to work.”

“They’ll work, trust me. You’ve got to hit them really hard. Use both feet. Really jam them down. I’ll pull the emergency brake while you’re doing that.”

“But, wait…”

Jessica had once, long ago, been in a car that had suddenly quit in the middle of a commute. Her mother had slammed on the brakes, and the car had stopped. Jessica may not have understood how it worked, but in this situation, total knowledge of the mechanics didn’t really matter.

“But…” Rob was still protesting. He was starting to freak out.

“Now!” Jessica screamed right in his ear. There wasn’t any time to try to be calm with him, to try to coax him through this. He just needed to do it.

With both feet, Rob slammed on the brakes.

Jessica seized the emergency brake lever that sat between the seats. She yanked it as hard as she could.

The Subaru jolted. The tires screeched. Jessica was thrown forward, her seatbelt catching her and digging hard into her chest.

Mere seconds later, there was another jolt, and a tremendous noise. The motorcycle behind them had crashed into the Subaru.

Just as Jessica had suspected, the biker hadn’t had enough time to swerve or brake to avoid the Subaru. He’d been too busy trying to get his shotgun into position, and by trying to hold it, he’d lost the crucial ability to maneuver as he’d needed to.

There wasn’t any time to waste.

Jessica’s hand went to her seatbelt button, jamming against the button.

It was stuck.

“Shit,” she muttered.

Rob seemed dazed, and he was mumbling something.

Jessica glanced in the mirror, but she couldn’t see the biker. She knew that it wasn’t likely that he was dead. He was still there. And he still had the shotgun. He was still a threat.

Jessica dug into her pocket, looking for her knife. But it wasn’t there.

Of course it wasn’t there. They’d taken it from her when she’d been kidnapped and tied up.

“Rob, give me your knife. Quick.”

“What’s that?”

Rob sounded dazed. Maybe he’d hit his head.

There wasn’t any time to waste. The seconds were ticking by. Each new second meant that the chance of danger was increasing. All it’d take was for the biker not to be so critically wounded that he couldn’t wield his shotgun.

Jessica reached over and dug her hand into the pocket of Rob’s jeans. She hoped his knife was on her side.

It was. She removed her hand, clutching the knife. With one hand, she flicked it open.

In a single stroke, she sliced through her seatbelt, pulling the blade away from herself.

She was free. She opened the door, stepped out, keeping herself low and behind the Subaru for cover.

The biker was moaning in pain. From somewhere unseen.

Jessica moved quickly, slightly ducking, to the back of the car.

The motorcycle was tangled up with the Subaru’s rear bumper. It lay partially under the Subaru.

There were streaks of bright blood on the pavement that formed a trail that led away from the Subaru.

Jessica followed the trail. The knife was in her hand. It was still opened, and her fingers tightened around the handle. With each step, she stood up straighter, growing less fearful of the man who had kidnapped her and tormented her.

She saw him now. He’d crawled his away off the road. He’d almost reached a tree. The shotgun lay a few feet behind him on the road. Apparently, he’d abandoned it.

There was blood all around him. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from, or what exactly his injuries were.