Page 37 of Nine

Trig doesn’t answer me. He waits for a second and then starts running with me to a door that is at the side of the house. He pushes open the door and then stares at me. I run in and he follows behind me. I look down at the white and blue corvette.

“Damn it. Bones had the car keys in his pocket,” Trig yells.

“What do we do now?”

“Get in,” he says, pointing to the car.

“We have no keys,” I yell.

“I said, get in, Nine.”

My hand is shaking as I enter the car. Trig jumps in the driver’s side and starts rummaging through the visor and then the glove compartment. He pulls out a set of keys and starts up the car.

“Thank God for spares,” he shouts. “Saves time from having to hot wire it.”

He pushes the button to open the garage door and peels out. All this green ivy hits the car, and now I know how the garage was camouflaged. All of a sudden, I hear bullets hit the back of the car.

“Get down,” Trig yells.

The entire back window shatters and glass flies everywhere.

“Holy shit,” I shout, as I duck. “Who are they?”

“The Savior’s men. I take it they found the dead bodies at Bones’ house.”

“How did they even find us up here?”

“Bones told me this morning he heard your car on the police scanner and that cops all over the area were alerted. A missing white female seems to get a lot of attention.”

We start to haul ass down the road, and that’s when Trig hands me his gun.

“If they come close behind us, you shoot.”

I realize I’m holding his gun, and I have all the power and control now. I aim it at Trig.

He’s too focused on driving to notice. He finally looks over.

“If you want to kill me, and live to tell about it, then this is not the time.”

I hear the squealing of tires behind us. I look back to see a car full of men put the pedal to the metal to catch up to us. They point their guns out of their car window.

“Baby, I need you to reach back and shoot them.”

I’ve never shot a gun. My hands are shaking enough without Trig driving like a maniac.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Pull the trigger.”

One of their bullets hits the back of our car.

“Pull the fucking trigger,” he yells.

I aim the gun back and shoot. A bullet hits their windshield. They keep firing bullets at the back of our car. I duck down again. Suddenly I hear Trig groan out in pain. I look over to see blood running down his arm. He’s been shot.

“Oh my god. Are you okay?” I shout.

He grits his teeth and continues to drive.

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