We were nearing the end of Wyndham, and in my mirror I saw headlights sweeping down to the end of the Bullock house driveway. The Annihilator burst into view, straightened, started coming after us like the enormous beast it was.
I glanced back. Angie looked pale. “I really need some air,” she said. “I gotta put down a window or I’m gonna be sick. Oh crap, there’s no buttons or anything to put the window down.”
It was true. When they’d taken the inside door panels off to search for drugs, they’d removed the power window controls. But there was still a button on the dash for the sunroof, and I opened it. “How’s that?” I asked.
“Better,” she said.
“Trevor,” I said. “Call 911.”
“Yeah.” He had his phone out and was about to punch in the numbers when I hung a hard right at an intersection, tossing my passengers—human and canine—about. “You might try to get your seat belts on if you get a chance,” I advised.
“Here,” Trevor said to Angie, “I’ll get yours.” And he leaned across, grabbed the belt from above her shoulder, and secured it. Then he did his own. “I’m calling them now,” he said. Morpheus was in Angie’s lap now, looking like maybe he was going to have a nap.
I didn’t have a destination in mind. I just wanted to get away.
The Annihilator cut that last corner short, riding up over one curb and down another. As far back as it was, I could still hear its engine roar with the Virtue sunroof open.
Trevor, craning his head around every few seconds, said, “They’re gaining.”
I leaned on the gas, but the hybrid didn’t take off the way I might have hoped. The SUV was closing the distance.
“Is this the police?” Trevor said into his phone. “We’re being chased by some people who want to kill us! Uh, we’re in a silver Virtue, going north on—” He looked around. “Where are we?” he shouted.
I wasn’t sure. I knew about as much as Trevor did, that we were heading north.
“I’m not sure. But look for a silver car being chased by a black SUV. There’s two men in it and they’re—”
We were hit from behind. The Annihilator, its shoulder-high headlamps filling the Virtue with light, had nudged the back bumper. Morpheus sprung up from his short nap, put his paws on the back window ledge, and began barking and slobbering. I swung the wheel to the right, then the left, crossing the middle lane and then back again. At least this time they weren’t shooting at us. I’d taken guns off both of Bullock’s men and—
And then they were shooting at us.
“He’s got a gun!” Trevor shouted. “Like a machine gun or something!”
“Get down!” I shouted, and Trevor threw his arm around Angie and forced her head below the bottom of the rear window.
“It’s going to be okay,” he told her again. “I’m going to take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”
There were more shots, a pop-pop-pop-pop. All our windows were still intact, but I thought I’d heard at least one bullet strike the trunk or back bumper.
I rounded a corner, the tires shifting and slipping on some streetcar tracks. Up ahead, a late-night streetcar taking people home after the bars had closed was rolling along. I swung out to the left, passing it in the opposite lane. I glanced in my mirror and the Annhilator was gone, but once I’d passed the streetcar, it appeared on my right side. It had passed the streetcar on the inside and was now getting ready to ram us from the side.
I hit the brakes. The Annihilator, as big and as heavy as it was, couldn’t stop in as short a distance. I turned left down a narrow residential street. In seconds, I saw the headlights behind me again. I zigzagged my way through the neighborhood’s streets, a right, another right, a left, a right. I’d completely lost my bearings, but I hadn’t lost the Annihilator.
The thing was, my car was no match for it, not unless Bullock and Blondie ran out of gas. Driving the vehicle that got better mileage didn’t count for much at the moment. It wasn’t like I could take this chase off the streets. Off-road I’d have even less chance of getting away from that four-wheel-drive monster.
Ahead, I saw some familiar buildings. I was starting to get my bearings. We were coming up on Mackenzie University and its historic, grand structures.
I blasted past the gate, where you picked up your parking ticket when entering the grounds. The university streets were nearly deserted, hardly any cars parked along the lanes, no students walking around.
The Annihilator came in after me, barreling like a locomotive.
Angie raised her head enough to see where we were.
“Get back down,” Trevor said.
“Wait,” Angie said, looking around. “Dad, I’ve got an idea.”
“Me too,” I said, my hands wet with sweat as I gripped the wheel.
It was going to be tricky, that was for sure. But for all the car’s faults, its steering was tight and precise.
I slowed a bit, let the Annihilator gain on us. It only took a second. The SUV’s massive grill loomed over our trunk, its lights like fire, its engine roaring as if it were about to devour us.