015 POV driving away... 1089

I keep the gas to the floor as my car engine pushes its limits. The rearview mirror reflects the headlights of the Merc as it rapidly closes in on me. My heart's pounding, my entire body rigid. I've driven hard and fast before, but I've always had the option to stop when and where I want. Never have I driven like this to save my life. Never has stopping meant certain death.

As I zip through the streets, there's a small part of me that's thankful it's so late. There's no way in hell I'd be able to drive this fast through day-time traffic. 

The cabin of my car fills with the glare of headlights. My side mirror shows my assailant right on my tail. Try as it may, my twenty year old, American made, four cylinder engine is no match for contemporary German engineering at its finest. It doesn't help that whoever that man is he knows how to handle a car at high speeds. Most people don't. Most people have never pushed an engine to its max or doubled the speed limit on inner city streets. Most people don't know how to take a corner at high speeds. The key is being familiar with how your car will drift. Some cars don't have a low enough centre of gravity and will grip and roll instead of slide. 

Pop! Pop! Pop! Three bullets pierce the rear window. One of which goes right through the cabin and punctures the front window. Fortunately, it was on the passenger side and misses me. I hunch down, as low as I can while still keeping my eyes on the road. A panic rises within. A sense of being trapped with no way out. I can't stop. I can't out race him. I have no destination in mind. I can't escape. I need police. I rack my mind, where's the nearest police station? Normally, this is a simple question solved by a quick Google search. But to use my cell while driving like this would guarantee a fatal crash. 

Then it hits me. I find a moment of clarity amidst this immense chaos and remember that there's a police station on Maddox Street. Where the hell is Maddox Street from here? I chance a look up from the road at a quickly passing street sign - Curtain Street. That means nothing to me. The next is Floodwater Ave, that means nothing either. The next street sign I miss, but the one after that is Cauldwell Road, I know that one. There's a printers on Cauldwell that we use for our menus. Maddox is north from the restaurant while Cauldwell is south. I'm heading in the wrong direction. Somehow I need to get on a parallel street going the opposite direction. 

I'm still terrified, but at least I now have a plan - get to Maddox Street police station. I jam the handbrake, drop the clutch and spin the wheel drifting hard into an adjacent street but I'm going too fast. I mistime the slide and scrape the side of a parked car kicking up a rooster tail of sparks. I look in my rearview and see that the Merc overshot the turn. 

Good, that's given me a small head start. 

I gear down quickly, pump the gas and run the gears up as I gain pace. I make it to the end of the street and repeat the process of taking a jack-knife turn, only this time I'm in better control of the vehicle and time the drift perfectly. I slide around the corner like a figure skater, well, it might not look that elegant but it sure feels clean.

I make it onto the parallel artery heading towards Maddox Street. No sign of the Merc. Did I manage to lose him? A jolt of elation fires through me at the thought of having out-driven whoever the hell that killer is. But it's short lived as a set of headlights appears on the road far behind me. If I had a decent engine I could out drive him. If - If - If. Even amidst this turmoil a quote from a business seminar springs to mind - 'If' is the weak man's crutch. 

I figure that I'm about two miles from the Maddox Street police station, maybe a two minute drive. Hold on for two minutes, you can make it.

Again, the cabin of my car lights up like Christmas from the Merc's headlights. He's right on my tail. Driving dangerously close behind me. 

Pop! Pop! Pop! Another volley of bullets shatter what remains of my rear window. Two of the bullets also puncture the front window causing it to splinter which diminishes my vision of the road.

Wham!  The Merc rear-ends me, causing me to fishtail. I grip the steering wheel for dear life, using all my strength to keep the car on the road. I scrape another parked car, again casting a blaze of sparks into the air behind me like premature New Years eve fireworks. 

I suddenly realise how desperate this guy is. He's willing to destroy his car in order to run me off the road. I'm guessing, but I think he knows where I'm heading. 

Wham! He rear-ends me again. This time much harder than before. It takes every ounce of strength and skill I have to keep my car from colliding with a street lamp.

The Merc drops back about fifty yards and seems to stay there. He's not shooting at me and he's no longer trying to barge me off the road. What the hell is he doing? My question is answered a moment later when I hear him gun his engine and watch in horror as he accelerates at an immense speed showing no signs of slowing...

He approaches like a starvation mad cheetah closing in on a wounded gazelle. 

Wham!

This time he hits me with such force that I lose control of my car. I go into a terrible spin, the world around me blurring as it whizzes past. In my reflex I slam my foot on the brake but know that it's a futile action. I'm a rag-doll in the hand of a toddler mid tantrum, thrown about every which way. 

For a brief moment I catch sight of the Merc as it also spins wildly out of control then plunges head long into a parked van with a cacophonous crunch of metal melding with metal.

Suddenly, the world goes...

...black.