Page 63 of All He Takes
She pressed even harder on the gas pedal. Harrison was speeding too, until both of them were going so fast their cars were shaking. Nicky wasn't sure how much of a beating her old car could take--but she knew for sure Harrison's 1998 hunk of junk couldn't handle much more.
Nicky's car was going faster and faster. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn't sure if that was because of the speed, or because of what she was about to do.
She just knew she had to catch up to him. She had to end it.
Harrison's car was just ahead. She could see it better now as she got closer. It was practically falling apart. It had a giant dent in the side and the back looked like it had been crumpled in a ball.
Then--a loud POP. Harrison blew a tire. She slammed on the breaks, causing her car to screech to a halt. The tires squealed and the car shook--but she held it on the road. This would be the end of it.
Nicky watched as Harrison's car flew right at a pole, slamming into it, head-first. Nicky threw her door open and dashed at the wreckage as smoke piled into the air.
She ran and ran, her shoes kicking up dust. Then she reached the car and stopped. Her heart was pounding. Her breaths were short.
She stood there and looked at it, smoke still pouring into the air. When she was sure he wasn't getting out of it, she started walking around the car. Her gun was in her hand, and she aimed it at the car, just in case.
But it was empty.
The door was open. There was no one inside.
She walked around the car and looked through the passenger window--and that's when she saw him.
He was there, on the ground, crawling on the asphalt. He was holding his head. His leg was bleeding.
She looked down at the gun in her hand, and then back at him. For a moment, she had a suspicion that he was going for a gun of his own, that he had one on him and he'd pull it out any second now and fire at her. But she looked at him, and she saw how injured he was. He was stuck. He wasn't moving.
He just kept trying to crawl.
"That's far enough, Harrison," Nicky said. "It's over."
He looked back at her. His eyes were wild. He looked like a cornered animal.
He coughed. His eyes were starting to close. He was going to pass out.
"It's over, Harrison," Nicky said. "I'm here to bring you in."
She stepped closer to him. He was still on the ground, just a few feet away from her.
"I'm not going to prison," he said, his voice quivering. "I'll die first."
"You're not going to die, Harrison," Nicky said. "Just put your hands up where I can see them."
She half-expected him to grab a gun and start firing. She wouldn't have been surprised. She knew she had to be careful.
But he didn't. He just lay there, on the ground.
"Please, Harrison," Nicky said. "I don't want to shoot you. Just give yourself up."
He didn't respond. She could see it then. He was done. He was done fighting, done resisting.
This was it.
As Nicky was getting closer to him, still holding her gun firmly, she reached for her handcuffs. Harrison was done--she was sure of it. But as she was getting closer, he threw his leg out and attempted to knock Nicky over.
But she was ready for it. She jumped over his swipe, then landed beside him and kicked him hard in the stomach.
"I said it's over, Harrison!" Nicky screamed. "Don't make me shoot you!"
He deserved to rot in prison. She wouldn't let him take the easy way out.
