Page 76 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

A horn blared behind us, long and angry, cutting through the chaos of rushing cars and roaring engines. My heart was already pounding from the stress of the last few minutes, but now it thudded so hard against my ribs it made my already throbbing head feel like it was about to split open. Every beat sent a fresh wave of pain behind my eyes, but I couldn’t focus on that, not with the way Gladys suddenly leaned forward and grinned like a woman half her age.

“Here we go,” she cheered, that grin stretching wider with a spark of something feral behind it.

Before I could process what she meant, she yanked the wheel sharply to the right. The tires screamed against the asphalt in protest as we veered wildly off the interstate, the entire vehicle tilting just enough to make my stomach lurch. We barreled onto an exit ramp at the last possible second, narrowly avoiding a concrete barrier that loomed far too close to my window. My breath caught in my throat as I clutched the door with both hands, my nails digging into the armrest like it could anchor me to safety.

Behind us, the black SUV that had been tailing us sped right past the exit. They’d been going too fast, too committed to the chase, and hadn’t anticipated Gladys’s wild turn. The sound of screeching tires tore through the air, followed by a harsh staccato of blaring horns and the shriek of rubber skidding hard across the shoulder. For a moment, I pictured them fishtailing, struggling to correct their course. But they were gone, vanishing behind us in the traffic we’d just escaped.

Gladys whooped like a woman who had just hit the jackpot. She punched the horn with a triumphant slap, grinning wide as she pumped her fist into the air. “Ha! That’s one for the old broad.”

She looked so pleased with herself, so utterly unfazed, that I didn’t know whether to be horrified or impressed. It probably warranted being both. I slumped back into my seat, my body sagging under the weight of crashing adrenaline. My heart still hammered against my ribs, my head was pounding like a war drum, and my hands trembled as I loosened my death grip on the door.

And yet, for all the chaos and danger and sheer terror of that moment, I couldn’t help but feel a strange flicker of admiration for Gladys. There was something about her—this relentless, no-nonsense determination—that made her impossible not to like. She was out of her depth, clearly, and her driving was more dangerous than the people chasing us, but damned if she wasn’t committed.

We were still alive, thanks to her...somehow.

But for the first time since I’d been taken, I felt something new settling into my bones—something fierce, something wild, something that whispered we weren’t out of this yet, but we might actually have a chance.

“I know a place that’s safe.” Gladys's voice was casual again like we weren’t still cutting through side streets with half a bumper hanging on for dear life. “Just a little further. Hang in there, sweetheart.”

I didn’t have the strength to argue. My head was pounding with renewed vengeance, and every bump in the road made my skull feel like it was rattling loose from my spine. The pain pulsedbehind my eyes in time with my heartbeat, and I was starting to feel dizzy—like everything had a second, slightly slower shadow.

“Where are we going?” I managed, trying to focus on something—anything at all.

Gladys gave a smile that was way too calm for someone who had just been chased. “A friend of mine lives there, he’ll help. Don’t you worry.”

When we pulled into the parking lot of a retirement home—Sunset Pines, according to the sign—I blinked, not quite trusting what I was seeing.

“A retirement home?” I asked, squinting at the stucco exterior and the decorative bird fountain near the entrance.

“They have Jell-O on Fridays and a doctor on call,” Gladys explained matter-of-factly. “What more could you ask for?”

I opened my mouth to protest but didn't get very far. She was already out of the car and moving faster than I thought possible for someone with questionable depth perception and shoes with Velcro.

Inside, the air smelled faintly like lemon cleaner and oatmeal. Residents shuffled slowly through the wide hallways, some using walkers while others were escorted to activity rooms. Gladys led the way confidently, offering smiles and waves to a few people as she passed.

We found her friend, Ira, on the back patio, deep in a game of shuffleboard with three other men who looked like they hadn’t missed a round in thirty years.

When Ira spotted Gladys, he broke into a crooked grin and tapped his cue to the ground. “My love.” He spoke with such joy, my heart gave a slight ache in response.

Retirement relationship, I thought blearily, even as my vision started to swim. How freaking adorable.

Ira insisted on walking us back to his room, which was neat and smelled like cinnamon and old cologne. I barely made it to the couch before collapsing sideways onto the cushions. Ira disappeared into a cabinet and returned with a soft blanket, draping it over me with surprising tenderness, then fetched a plastic ice pack wrapped in a dish towel and gently placed it on my head.

I muttered something close to gratitude. I wasn’t entirely sure my words made sense anymore.

“You’re seeing double, aren’t you?” he asked, concern replacing the warmth in his voice.

I nodded slowly. “Feels like the whole room is floating.”

He looked at Gladys, then back at me. “We need to take you to a doctor.”

“I don’t know if that’s safe,” she murmured, hesitating.

Ira straightened gently but firmly. “If we wait any longer, she’s going to pass out again, and this time, it might not be from the head knock.”

Eventually, Gladys nodded. They helped me to my feet, each of them bracing under my arms like I weighed nothing. I staggered out with them, legs like wet noodles, my skin clammy and damp.

By the time they eased me into the backseat of the car, I was sweating and shivering at the same time.

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