Page 64 of In Her Wake
“It’s okay,” he’d whispered as the drug began to take effect.“This is a kindness.You’ve reached your peak.Everything after this would be disappointment.”
But then he’d seen it—a police cruiser rolling slowly down the street toward Sarah’s house.Panic … his hands suddenly clumsy.The syringe had slipped from his grasp, clattering to the concrete with at least a quarter of the dose still inside.Sarah’s body had begun to go limp, but her eyes remained alert, terrified.Not enough relaxant to fully paralyze her, just enough to weaken her resistance.
He’d dragged her to the van, one hand still clamped over her mouth.The mannequin sat propped up inside, waiting to serve its purpose.He’d shoved Sarah in beside it, slammed the doors, and scrambled to the driver’s seat.
Now sirens wailed behind him, their pitch rising and falling like accusations.They must have already been looking for him.But how?How could they have connected him to the others?
The industrial park appeared ahead, its maze of access roads and abandoned warehouses offering a slim chance of escape.Daniel yanked the wheel, the van’s tires squealing as he cut across traffic.Horns blared around him, drivers shouting obscenities.
“This isn’t right,” he muttered, his voice strange in his own ears.“This isn’t how it’s supposed to end.”
Behind him, Sarah made a soft sound.She was regaining control faster than he’d anticipated.The cruisers were closing in, one on either side of him now, boxing him toward the industrial park’s main entrance.
Without the ritual, without the careful positioning and explanation, the mannequin he’d created would remain an empty vessel, a hollow mockery of his philosophy.
“It’s all for nothing,” he whispered, the truth of it crushing him.“All of it.”
***
Sarah’s world returned in fragments—first sound, a high-pitched wailing that rose and fell in the distance; then sensation, the cold metal floor beneath her cheek; finally, memory, the horrifying realization of what had happened outside her garage.She tried to move her fingers, panic surging when they responded with only the faintest twitch.The muscle relaxant still gripped her body, not completely, but enough.
The van lurched violently to one side, throwing her against the metal wall.Pain struck her shoulder, sharp enough to cut through the chemical fog clouding her mind.She forced her eyes open wider, blinking to clear her vision.
Sarah’s breath caught in her throat.
Directly across from her sat...herself.No—not herself.A life-sized figure with her face.
Another sharp turn sent the mannequin sliding across the floor toward her, its limbs clacking against the metal, its face—herface—inches from her own.Sarah would have screamed if her vocal cords had obeyed.Instead, she managed only a weak moan, the sound lost beneath the wail of sirens growing louder outside.
Sirens.Police.Someone was in pursuit.
Hope flickered to life inside her chest.She wasn’t alone in this nightmare.But rescue would only come if she survived long enough for them to reach her.The man driving the van—she remembered his face now, the intense eyes that had watched her with reverence as he’d plunged the needle into her neck—was driving erratically, desperately.He might crash.He might kill them both before help arrived.
Sarah concentrated, focusing all her will on her right hand.The fingers responded with a tremor, then a twitch, then finally curled into a weak fist.The drug was wearing off, its hold on her body diminishing with each passing moment.She tried her left hand next, then her arms, each movement slightly stronger than the last.
The van swerved again, and Sarah used the momentum to roll herself onto her stomach.The effort left her gasping, but now she could see the driver—a thin man hunched over the steering wheel, his shoulders rigid with tension.He was muttering to himself, words she couldn’t make out over the engine’s roar and the distant sirens.
She needed to move, needed to act before he realized she was regaining control.Slowly, painfully, Sarah dragged herself forward, pushing with her toes and pulling with her elbows in a clumsy military crawl.Each inch required monumental effort, her muscles still sluggish and uncooperative.
The mannequin’s vacant eyes watched her progress.The sight fueled Sarah’s determination.She refused to become whatever this man had planned.She refused to be reduced to an object, a doll, a thing.
Her podcast had taught her that survivors made choices, took action, even when terrified.Now she would apply that lesson to her own life.She thought of her listeners, the community she'd built, the stories she'd told of resilience in the face of darkness.She would become one of those stories, not a tragedy.
The sirens grew louder, accompanied now by the sound of engines racing alongside the van.The driver cursed, the van accelerating with a lurch that nearly sent Sarah sliding backward.She gripped the grooved metal floor, anchoring herself, refusing to lose the precious ground she’d gained.
Her legs were responding better now, strength returning in inconsistent waves.She could feel her toes, could bend her knees.Not enough for standing, not yet, but perhaps enough for what she needed to do.
The van made another sharp turn, tires squealing against pavement.The driver was shouting now, his words becoming clearer as Sarah inched closer to the front of the vehicle.
“It’s all for nothing,” she heard him say.“All of it.”
The despair in his voice sent a chill through her.A man who felt he had nothing to lose was the most dangerous kind.If he couldn’t escape, would he choose to crash the van deliberately?Take her with him rather than face capture?
Sarah’s heart hammered as she dragged herself the final distance to the divider between the cargo area and the driver’s compartment.The gap was wide enough for her to see him clearly now—sweat plastering his hair to his forehead, eyes wild with fear and something else, something that looked unsettlingly like grief.
He hadn’t noticed her yet, his attention fixed on the road ahead and the vehicles pursuing them.Sarah gathered her strength, preparing for the moment she would need to act.Her right arm felt almost normal now, her left still weaker but functional.Her legs remained unreliable, but she wouldn’t need them for what she planned.
***
