Sarah didn’t move.
Ripley reached in and pressed two fingers against Sarah’s neck.The pulse was strong and steady.She wasn’t badly hurt, just stunned.Ripley’s first overtly-unprofessional thought was that she could steal a few blows against Sarah’s skull and blame any damage on the crash, but a concussion was no match for life behind bars, which is what this bitch deserved.
‘It’s over, Webb.Wake up.’
Sarah’s eyes fluttered open.For a brief moment, she looked disoriented and vulnerable.Ripley had so many questions she didn’t know where to start.
‘You killed three people, including my mentor, and your own dad.Was it worth it?’
‘Agent Ripley,’ Sarah mumbled.‘You shouldn’t have followed me.’
‘Save it.Get out.We’re going to-’
Sarah’s hand moved, too fast for Ripley to intercept.From between her legs, she produced a snub-nosed revolver.
Small, deadly, and now pointed directly at Ripley’s midsection.
‘Step back.’
God damn it.Where had she been hiding a revolver?
Ripley raised her hands.‘It’s not worth it, Webb.We all know you’re guilty.’
‘I’m not guilty!’Webb cried.
‘Then why are you pointing a revolver at me?’
‘Because,’ Webb breathed, then stopped.‘I came too far.This needs to end.’
‘Yes it does.’
Sarah slowly rose to her feet, not taking the gun off Ripley.She wasn’t as injured as her cuts made her out to be.Then, Sarah gestured with the gun barrel for Ripley to get in the driver’s seat.
‘Go on.You’re driving,’ she said.
Ripley stared down the weapon that could end her life.She had options, but none of them seemed wise given the circumstances.Sarah didn’t look comfortable with a pistol, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fire off a fatal bullet.Ripley could attempt to disarm Sarah, but a few frenzied shots were sometimes worse than a purposeful one.
Ripley could refuse, but Sarah had desperation on her side, and desperate people pulled triggers without thinking about the consequences.
No.If Ripley wanted to walk away from this roadside attraction with all her internal organs still on the inside, she needed to stay in control.
Or at least, create the illusion of it.
So, she decided to play along until the balance shifted.
‘Fine.Where are we going?’
‘Not yet.Throw your cell away.’
Ripley had a thousand pictures of her grandson on her cell, and if Sarah wanted it, she could prize it from her dead hands.‘Not going to happen.’
‘I’ll shoot you.’
‘So shoot me.’
Webb cocked the trigger and moved it closer to Ripley’s chest.Ripley didn’t move.
‘Go on.Shoot me.’