“I’m more worried about my head.”
“Helmets!” he yells. “Keatyn bought them for my birthday. They're behind the seat.”
I strap on a helmet, then hold the wheel while Aiden does the same.
“You look ridiculous,” I tell him. “I totally have to record this.”
I grab my video camera out of my pocket and mount it to the dash. “One DashCam coming up.”
After getting it in place and hitting record, I’m feeling claustrophobic. “This must be her helmet. It’s too tight.”
“It will protect your head. That’s all that matters. Okay, so I’m going to speed way up. Pass them. Come back. We’ll time it so we hit the driver’s door.”
“Where the hell is the Secret Service? In Miami, they were there in minutes.”
“It's just us, Riley,” Aiden says solemnly. “And I’m on fumes. Just before we hit, I want you to pull the emergency brake. It’ll spin us around and we’ll hit him with the back of the car. It will protect us.”
“Do you think you can do that? Drive right into the side of it?”
“I don’t have a choice. Here we go.”
Aiden pushes the pedal down, slamming through the gears.
We pass the van.
Trees and power poles fly by us.
“How far do we have to go before we turn back?”
Aiden’s screeching brakes are the answer to my question. He flips the car around and drops the clutch.
Then it’s rev the motor, shift, rev, shift, rev, shift.
“140!” Aiden yells.
“160!” I yell back. “What’s her top speed?”
“Stock is 185, but I have a chip. I’ve never tested it, but they say it’ll go 200. Just pray we don’t blow a tire.”
“Oh, great. Like we need something else to worry about. This is like one of those math problems. A car is traveling toward you at 70 mph. You're going the opposite direction at 190 mph. If you want to hit the van, when should you cross the median?”
“You know the answer?”
“No. I suck at math. The van is getting closer. Now!” I scream.
Aiden cranks the wheel.
“Ahhh!!!” I scream again as we bear down on the van.
Just when I recognize the driver as the guy from the club in Miami, Aiden yells, “Pull it, Riley! Pull it!”
I wait a heartbeat longer and then pull the emergency brake.
Tires scream.
Metal crunches.
The car does a flat spin and we hit again.
Get away.
I’m disoriented and feel like I’m being tossed from one metal hand to another.
I rub a bump on my head as I crash into something softer.
Dallas.
I quickly remember the events. Dallas falling to the ground. Cooper yelling my name. Vincent firing shots to his chest. Him going down. Vincent's voice behind me. Dallas being thrown into the van.
Which, I’m pretty sure, is rolling.
I hit my shoulder hard and hold on tight to Dallas, trying to cover his head with my arms. I feel his breath on my face, but he doesn’t respond when I say, “Dallas, wake up.”
After what seems like an eternity, the van teeters to a stop.
I hear Vincent moan.
Somehow, I’ve got to get Dallas away from him. So he doesn’t shoot him like he did Cooper.
Poor Cooper.
I relive the moment. The noise. Cooper’s body thrown back when the bullets hit him.
I want to cover my head and bawl. I can’t believe he’s dead because of me.
He was more than a bodyguard.
He was my friend.
I shake my head to clear it and everything he taught me rushes into my brain.
I need an advantage. A weapon.
Anything.
The van is completely empty in the back. Just me and Dallas surrounded by white metal and gray carpet.
Vincent has switched from moaning to cursing.
And I can tell he’s pissed even though I can’t understand what he’s saying.
He must’ve been driving too fast and crashed.
I hear a slicing sound and the pop of what I assume is the airbag.
Meaning he's got a knife.
Wrists. Face. Crotch.
Disable him.
Get the gun.
Grab Dallas.
Get away.
But then how will I find B?
My head is throbbing. My shoulder is sore.
Think, Keatyn.
New plan.
Get the gun. Use it to make Vincent tell me where B is.
My eyes are darting across the van, looking for something to use as a weapon, when I spy my backpack. Dallas and I were headed to Stockton’s so I could drop it off. So it would be ready when I left tonight.
And there’s something heavy in it, I remember.
The rock Avery gave me!
I slowly inch toward it, hoping Vincent can’t hear me moving.
Cooper always said to use the element of surprise whenever possible. He said the fact that I’m a girl adds an element of surprise in and of itself. That a man wouldn’t expect me to be a threat.
Maybe if I pretend to still be knocked out.
I look toward the windshield. It's smashed and, based on the fact that the trees are pointing the wrong direction, I determine that the van is lying on its side.
Vincent yells loudly, crawling toward me. “Keatyn! Are you okay?”
I keep my eyes shut as he touches my temple and cries out, “You’re bleeding!”