Page 25 of Caught in the Middle

Although she was about 50 feet away from them, she was paranoid that whoever was in her room with Oliver would be able to hear her wheezing.

Not for the first time since she discovered that note in her exam paper did she curse herself for not doing a single lick of exercise in the 22 years of her life.

She squinted into the darkness - the motel room they were in was easy to spot. The door, now hanging off of its hinges gave way to two, burly figures looming in the doorway. She squinted harder - she couldn't see or hear Oliver.

She knew she must get closer.

Crunching obscenely loudly on the fallen autumn leaves, she crept across the car park, praying that neither of the figures in the doorway would turn around. She clutched the handle of the gun with her sweaty palm, refusing to think about what she would actually do when she got close enough to see.

She was closer than what was comfortable to the motel door now, and she still couldn't see Oliver.

Her teeth chattered from cold and fear, not wanting to think about the ‘what ifs.’

What if he was laying on the floor of the motel, having been shot to death?

Now a lot closer, she could see the two men clearly. They were both dressed in suits, and double to size of an average man. Most certainly not the type of men you would want hammering down your door until it bursts open at goodness knows what time it was in the morning.

But they were so large that she couldn't see anything past them.

She aimed her gun at their general direction, trying to figure out what to do next.

But she didn't think.

She just...did.

Her finger pulled the trigger without the thought even processing into her brain.

She just shot blindly into the distance. And then she did it again, this time, more to the left.

It was as if everything that happened next was in slow motion.

The men buckled, dropping to their knees, and Oliver's head appeared.

He punched one of the men in the face as they dropped down, leaped over him and ran towards her.

She couldn't comprehend what was happening. 'Oliver!' she screamed, dizzy from the adrenaline.

He was alive. He was fucking alive.

With his gun still in his right hand, he reached into his inside jacket pocket with the other, and pulled something out. He screamed something that Lucy didn't catch, and lobbed the object at her.

When it fell into her hands, she realised it was the set of keys for the car, and she understood.

She ran over to where they were parked, unlocking the door as she went.

She slid into the driver’s seat, and with a shaking hand, twisted the key in the engine.

'Drive!' Oliver yelled as he threw open the passenger door.

Lucy slammed on the gas before Oliver could even get into the car.

She’d taken a few lessons back when she was 16 - but like everything else in her life, she never followed them through to completion.

She sped through the car park, and down the little lane that led up to the motel.

'Where am I going?!'

'Turn left at the end of this lane, we'll avoid the motorway.' Oliver panted.

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