David Wisehart - Blood Alley

When the pieces hit the windshield, Trevor saw they were flash cards, those SAT vocabulary cards Ethan carried with him. They must have fallen from Ethan’s pocket. Flash cards hit the windshield and flitted away.

One stuck to the glass long enough for Trevor to read:

Malevolent.

Ethan’s body came more fully into view. The Hummer was almost on him.

Trevor eased off the accelerator.

Claire screamed, “Don’t run him over!”

“I know, I know.”

This would be tricky. They were close now.

Ten feet away—five feet—two feet—

The top of Ethan’s head disappeared below the hood.

Too close.

Trevor slowed a bit more, to keep an even pace. The steering wheel vibrated in his grip. His hands were slick with sweat.

“I’m gonna get beside him,” Trevor said to Claire. “See if you can pull him in.”

Claire nodded and unlocked her door. She kept her hand on the handle, ready to push it open.

Trevor cocked his head to the left and checked for oncoming traffic, but didn’t see any headlights coming. The Hummer and the tanker truck were alone on the highway.

It was time to make his move—

Trevor angled left, changed lanes, and powered ahead, coming up beside Ethan.

Claire threw the door open. “ Ethan! ” She leaned out, secured by her seat belt, and reached for him. “He sees me. He’s alive.”

“Get him in fast!”

Trevor saw Ethan’s bloody hand in hers—

The hand slipped away.

Claire screamed, “ Ethan!”

The tanker truck swerved left.

Into Trevor’s lane.

Ethan was pulled left, toward the Hummer—

“Oh shit! ”

Trevor tapped the brakes. The Hummer fell back. The steering wheel lurched in his hands, threatening to spin out of control. He clenched the wheel tight.

Oh no you don’t!

He regained control, but his hands were numb.

The tanker truck pulled ahead. The Hummer lost ground. Trevor saw Ethan diminish in the headlights.

Something wet smeared the road.

Blood.

It was coming from Ethan’s leather jacket. His jeans or his jacket must have torn through to the skin. He was bleeding his life out on the road. Ethan was still alive, but fast becoming a skid mark.

No time! No time!

Trevor accelerated.

Ethan wished for death, but remained alive.

His awareness slipped away, falling into murky pools of memory. Dark and deep. He wanted to dive in, wanted to escape the pavement and the pain. But memories, too, were painful. Black pools of regret. Vast lakes of wasted time. Missed chances. Things he might have done. Girls he should have kissed. Waves of emotion crashed ashore inside him. Death was no cure for regret.

The only cure was to live, and live well.

The legs of his jeans were shredded now. When his legs touched the road, raw skin met the blacktop, and the flesh was scraped away.

This is it, he thought. This is how I die.

His jacket was tough leather, and still offered some protection. If he kept his back pressed to the road, and his legs lifted, he might live another second more—and another—and another—

A lights appeared above him again. Bright and growing brighter.

Trevor.

Ethan’s head was raised from the road, eyes forward, but the front bumper of the Hummer was now above him.

His head was under the car.

Tires spun on both sides of him. His ears filled with the thrum of rubber on asphalt. If he wanted to die, all he had to do was twist his shoulders and throw his body under one of those tires. It would all be over. Quick and merciful.

But he didn’t want to die.

Live, damnit, live!

Ethan reached both hands into the air, stretching up to find the bumper. He grabbed it and pulled. He was never good at pull-ups, but somehow he found the strength to lift himself up off the burning asphalt.

For a moment he hung free in the air, suspended between the car’s bumper and truck’s chain.

The Hummer gained on the truck. The chained slackened.

Ethan felt the pull of gravity bring him closer to the road. He reached one hand to grab the front grille guard, turned this body over, and climbed onto the bumper.

Facing down, he saw the road rush below him, black and red. He was bleeding fast. He could feel his body weaken from the loss.

If he slipped now, with his face to the road, he would fall straight into his grave.

Ethan secured his grip and tucked his legs. Glancing up, he locked gazes with Trevor behind the glass. Trevor had that look of gritty determination that so often carried him through swim meets and baseball games.

The look of a winner.

It gave Ethan a sudden surge of hope.

Riding the bumper, he felt a change in the highway as the road descended, sloping down toward—he glanced back— what is that? —a suspension bridge. It spanned a deep gorge. They were dipping into a valley, where the road crossed a dry riverbed.

They were going even faster now. The tanker truck gained on the downhill run. Ethan felt the sharp tug at his ankle as the metal chain grew taut. He slipped a little from the bumper—but caught himself and held on.

Barely.

Trevor knew Ethan couldn’t hold on much longer. He sped up—the needle inching past 98 miles per hour—to give the chain some slack and Ethan a chance to climb up onto the hood.

The Hummer had a sunroof. If Ethan could get to the roof, they could pull him inside and remove the chain.

But Ethan wasn’t climbing.

He was clinging to the front grille guard. Frozen by fear. Ethan looked weak and helpless. His face pale. His hair slick with sweat and blood.

Trevor needed to get him inside.

But how?

I have to go pull him in.

It was the only way. Claire and Dakota weren’t strong enough to lift Ethan’s weight, and Trevor wasn’t about to ask them to go outside and risk their lives in a rescue attempt.

He said to Claire, who sat beside him, “Take the wheel.”

She looked stunned. “What?”

“Drive!”

“Why?”

Trevor unbuckled his seat belt. “I have to go get him.”

Claire’s look of surprise gave way to terror. “I can’t drive.”

“You have to.”

He grabbed her hand and slammed it down in on the steering wheel.

She recoiled, wrenching her hand free.

“ No! Don’t make me do this.”

She was trembling now.

Trevor kept his voice calm. “If he stays there, he dies. If he falls, he dies. I have to go get to him.”

Dakota said, “I’ll drive,” and climbed over to the front.

The needle bobbed around 100 miles per hour.

“Don’t slow down,” Trevor warned.

To make room for Dakota to slip behind the wheel, Trevor moved his driver’s seat back, then carefully switched his feet on the gas pedal, now pressing down hard with the ball of his left foot instead of his right. He half stood up from his seat, keeping pressure on the accelerator.

Dakota slid under him, trading places.

He gave her the wheel. “Got it?”

“I can’t see.”

Dakota’s view was blocked by Trevor’s body.

“Keep it straight,” he said. “You’ve got a bridge dead ahead.” He inched his foot to the edge of the accelerator pedal. “Put your foot on the side of mine.”

She did. Their feet touched together on the pedal.

He eased his foot off the accelerator, giving her control of the car.

Trevor opened the sunroof, then said to Claire, “Hold onto my legs.”

“Right,” Claire said, visibly relieved that she could do something to help.

Cold wind buffeted Trevor as he climbed out through the sunroof. He snaked forward on his belly, sliding over the edge of the roof and down the windshield.