Page 59 of Rest In Peace

"Damn right, we will," Matt echoed, his hand finding mine for a brief squeeze before I put the car into drive and pulled away from the only safety we knew.

As we reached A1A, the rearview mirror kept pulling my gaze, the silhouette of a car behind us morphing with each passing streetlight—too close for comfort, too constant to be a coincidence.

"Matt," I whispered, "that car… it's been with us since Minutemen Causeway."

"Change lanes," he said, voice low and steady. My hands tightened on the wheel as I obeyed, flicking the turn signal with a trembling finger. The other vehicle mimicked our path, its headlights an unwavering pair of eyes in the darkness.

"Speed up." Matt's command was terse.

I pressed the gas, the needle jumping as we sped along the deserted road. A glance in the mirror—still there, still following.

"Take the next right, then a quick left," he instructed, scanning the side mirrors with a frown.

"Is this going to work?" My voice betrayed the panic that was threatening to spill over.

"Has to."

Our tires squealed against the asphalt as I followed his directions, the sudden turns throwing us side to side. Angel let out a small whimper from her car seat.

"Mom?" Christine's whisper was shaky.

"Shh, there’s nothing to worry about," I lied, hoping my voice sounded lighter than I felt. “We’re like spies.”

"Spies don't get caught," Alex piped up, trying to sound brave.

"Exactly," Matt said, casting me a grim look that belied his confident tone.

We zigzagged through streets, the suspense gnawing at my insides until, finally, a red light ahead gave us a chance. I made a sharp left into an alleyway, killing the headlights and holding my breath.

"Down," Matt ordered.

We all ducked, hearts pounding in the blind dark. Seconds stretched like hours until the sound of the other car roared past the alley's entrance.

"Go," he urged, and I fired up the engine again, pulling out in the opposite direction, leaving the specter of our pursuer behind.

"Are we… are they gone?" Christine's voice quivered.

"I think so." My relief was punctured by the fear of what could've happened.

The hotel's neon sign blinked a welcome as we pulled into the lot, a beacon in the consuming night. We shuffled inside, the lobby's sterile lights harsh against our strained eyes.

"Christine, Alex, Angel," I counted them once more, hugging each tightly, their small bodies solid and real in my arms. They were safe for now.

"Good job, Mom," Alex murmured, his face pale but trying to smile.

"Thank you," I whispered back, brushing a kiss on his forehead.

"Let's get to our room," Matt said, the strain evident on his face. He was trying to be the rock, but I could see his hands trembling.

"Okay, kids, race you to the elevator!" I forced a cheerfulness I didn't feel, anything to distract them from the ordeal.

"Last one there's a rotten egg!" Christine giggled, taking off with her siblings in tow.

"Hey, no fair! Wait up!" Alex yelled after her.

"Slow down!" I called, half-laughing, half-scolding.

Once inside our room, I surveyed our temporary haven: two queen beds, a TV, the mundane details offering a surreal comfort. The children clambered onto the nearest bed, their laughter a balm to my frayed nerves.

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