017 POV driving w Covek 851

I notice I'm holding the steering wheel so tight my knuckles are white. I try to make a conscious effort to relax my grip, but something won't allow me. It's like I'm holding onto the wheel for life. Which only minutes ago I literally was. I don't remember much about the crash. I recall this guy chasing me and trying to barge me off the road, then darkness. Then waking to...

...this.

The man removes his belt, straps it around his thigh above where the ten inch sliver of metal protrudes. He grits his teeth and moans in agony as he pulls it tight, creating a makeshift tourniquet to slow blood flow. The sight of him doing this gives me chills. Not just from the gruesome nature of his wound, but from the knowledge that there was once a time in my life that I had such little regard for my body that I would tourniquet my own arms and legs to find veins. That is your past, not your future, it's who you were, not who you are. I remind myself.  

'You need a hospital,' I offer, somewhat redundantly as I make a turn to a main road that I know leads to a hospital not too far away. 

The man leans across, grabs the steering wheel and thrusts it back, averting my turn. 

'Okay, okay, no hospital.'

I drive in silence for a moment then ask, 'where do you want me to drive?'

'Just keep driving. Keep to back streets. Nowhere we'll be noticed. If we get pulled over by police,' he gestures to his gun, 'Things end really badly. Do you understand?'

All I can manage is a nod. I do as I'm instructed and continue to drive, keeping to back streets.

I drive a little too quickly over a speed bump that causes the spaceship toy I bought for Lucy for Christmas to play its interplanetary sounds. This startles the man who turns quickly and aims his gun at the toy. He casts me a dirty look when he realises it's innocuous. 

'Present for my daughter,' I offer needlessly. I realise that I'm nervous as hell. Whenever I feel panicked I talk. I can talk about anything. There's something about the constant flow of conversation that calms me. It needn't be about anything important, simply the act of dialogue is enough to take my mind away from whatever worry is causing my tension.

Usually. 

Right now I believe I could talk the hind legs off a donkey and I'd still be jittery as hell. 

'Look, I get it. Okay. You know I saw what you did to that man, and you can't have any witnesses, but I can promise you that if anyone ever asks me about it, I'll say I didn't see anything. I'm not a fool, I get how all this works. That guy, I don't even know him, I don't know you, I don't want to know anything about either of you, so what do you say if I just pull over, get out and walk away. I'll report my car as stolen in the morning and no one needs to know--'

'--Stop talking.' The man speaks with final authority. I clench my jaw to keep from uttering another syllable. 

Only speak when spoken to Susan.   

I draw a long deep breath, hold it, then exhale slowly. Trying to calm myself.  

'The only reason you're still alive is because I need you to drive me. The moment I no longer need you is the moment you die. Understand?'

I don't reply. I don't need to.

'Empty your pockets, give me your cell.'

I do as he says. I only have some chewing gum, my cell, my drivers license and the keys for the restaurant in my pocket. 

The man looks over my drivers license. 'Susan, Ann, Casali. Apartment twenty two, nineteen Jefferson Avenue. Jefferson? That’s not far, near the airport, right?'

I nod.

'You married?'

Why the hell does he need to know that? He stares at me, expecting an answer. 

'Divorced.' I reply flatly. 

'Boyfriend?'

'What's that got to do with anything?'

'Just answer the question.'

'I work fourteen hours a day, six days a week in a kitchen. What do you think?'

He takes that as a valid reply as he doesn't push me on this point anymore. 

The man reaches back behind him and grabs that spaceship Christmas present, eyeing it suspiciously. 

'What about your girl? She live with you?'

'With her father, in Vegas.' And for the first time in my life I'm pleased to be able to say this. It's bad enough this freak knows I have a daughter. Last thing I want is for him to know she's flying in tonight. 

The man processes all my answers and quietly says, 'Good. We need to get off the streets, but first we need to make a stop.'

'Where?' I ask, and immediately wish I hadn't.

The man looks at me as though I'm not the brightest penny in the fountain, then says slowly, 'Where the hell do you think?'

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