Page 83 of Riot Reunion
Presley desperately wants Pax, but what is he going to do if I go fetch him? He’s not a trained medical professional. He won’t be able to do a damn thing. She needs a fucking doctor—which meansIneed to head back to the car. I check my pockets as I run. Good. The keys are still there. Even in my panic, I had the common sense to swipe the keys to Dash and Carrie’s rental as I ran out of the door.
I find the hole in the hedge that leads through the forest, back to the road. Lady luck is on my side as I thrash and bully my way through the undergrowth; I have no true sense of direction here, with the trees closing in on me in the dark, but I manage to follow a straight path back toward where I think we left the cars. Sure enough, I emerge from the forest after a couple of minutes, and I’m exactly where I need to be. The cars are still parked right where we left them.
The silver hatchback chirps as I hit the unlock button, lights flashing in the rain. “Don’t worry. I’m getting help, Pres. I’ve got this. I’vegotthis.”
In the car.
Engine on.
E-brake off.
I spin the car around, tires screaming as I take off back down the mountain. With all of the hairpin switchbacks, the recommended speed limit down most of the road that leads from Wolf Hall down into Mountain Lakes is twenty-five, but fuck that. I go as fast as I humanly can, hitting the gas on the straights, slowing only as much as I need to on the corners so I can navigate them safely.
“I’ve got this. Help’s coming, Pres.” I chant the words over and over, determined to make them true. I’m going to hit Mountain Lakes in record time. There’ll be cell phone reception down there. The hospital will deploy an ambulance the second I’m done explaining the situation. They’ll race back up the mountain, and they will get to Presley in time. They’ll figure out what’s wrong with her, and—and—
Tears blur my vision, blotting out the road for a frightening moment. I’ve never seen that much blood before. It looked like Presley was hemorrhaging, for the love of God. How much blood can a person lose before there’s no pulling them back from the brink of death? Because I sense it in my bones. That’s exactly where Presley was when I ran out of the gazebo: the verybrinkof death.
“Focus, Elodie. Focus!” I dash away my tears, forcing myself to pay attention to the road. With conditions this treacherous, I’ll go careening off the road and crash into a tree if I’m not careful. Or worse. I’ll slam into the guardrail and go straight through it, sailing out over the drop before plummeting to my death.
My pep talk does the job. I watch the road like a hawk. The windshield wipers slash at the rain, the rubber juddering against the glass. It hits me out of nowhere, just as I’m about to pass the house, that I don’t need to drive all the way down to Mountain Lakes for help. There’s a landline back at the house. A fucking landline! No matter how bad the weather is, that phone should work, surely? Right?
I nearly miss the turnoff, trying to decide whether I should check to see if the landline works. At the very last second, I throw the hatchback into a turn, careening across the road, and I gun the engine, burning down the dirt road toward the ho—
Fur.
Skin.
Eyes.
Staring at me.
In the middle of the road.
Something streaks out in front of me, only two meters ahead of the car.
There’s no time to think.
Only react.
I slam onto the brakes, the hatchback fishtailing in the mud as the car tries to slow.
It’s no good. Too fast. I’m going too fast to stop!
I spin the wheel.
“SHIIIIIIIIIIT!”
The car whips around, a world in darkness twisting around me, gravity shoving me up against the door, and—
CRASH!
It’s raining so hard. But the raindrops are no longer made of water. They’re made of shattered glass.
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick….
Hissing. Popping. The sound of hot metal warping.
What…the hell…just…happened?
