Page 35 of Lone Star

She hit it with two quick taps, to keep from going through the dash; even so, the car dipped hard, and TJ woke with a startled yell in the backseat.

Two taps, then she cranked the wheel hard to the left, and hit the gas.

The truck’s headlights hit her full in the face for one awful moment, and she was totally blind. Then they were past, and she was blinking red spots out of her vision, and touching the brakes again, coasting down slowly this time. Even over the roar of her own engine, and the squeal of her tires, she heard the scream of the truck’s mud tires skidding across the pavement, and she heard the terrible thunder of collapsing metal as inertia carried it up and over, and it flipped.

The high-beams flared and spun, a revolving disco ball as the truck tumbled roof-over-tires again, and again, and again. She steered her car around, and in her own headlights she could see that the truck had ended up thirty feet off the road, upside down, motor choking and tires spinning down slowly; the roof of the cab was crushed. Ugly black streaks on the pavement veered off crazily toward the shoulder, and disappeared, a trail of laid-down rubber leading to the place where the truck had flipped.

Michelle braked the Challenger to a halt, and sat there a long moment, breathing sharply through her mouth.

I can’t believe that worked, she thought. And then,Shit, shit, shit. Her skin buzzed; the second the adrenaline started to drain away, she’d be shaking uncontrollably.

Sounds began to filter back through the steady throbbing of the blood in her ears: her engine purring quietly, ready for her next command. TJ full-on wailing now, crying, “Mama!” over and over.

She twisted around to look at him. Red-faced, crying, little feet kicking, but still buckled in and unharmed – save maybe a little whiplash. Kids were resilient; he’d be okay. Better than if that truck had caught them.

Jesus, she could have killed them both with that stunt.

She let out a deep, unsteady breath. “It’s okay, baby, shh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Someone tapped on her window.

She couldn’t help the little scream that left her lips as she whipped back around. She was already fumbling for the center console, for the gun stowed there, when she saw that the bearded face filling her window belonged to Jinx. Blood snaked in a thin rivulet down his temple, but he was on his feet, his expression tight with worry.

She buzzed down the window. “Are you okay?” she asked, voice shrill, panting.

“Fine. Bike’s a little banged up, but I managed to lay it down and get off the road. What about you guys?” He leaned in a fraction so he could look toward TJ, sobbing gustily now. “Y’all alright?”

“Just rattled.” Her hands were starting to tremble; her lungs felt quivery and insufficient, but seeing him whole and on his feet sent a wave of relief crashing through her. “We need to get out of here. There might be more. Is your bike still rideable?”

“Yeah. But hold on. I wanna check something.” He stepped back, and headed for the downed truck. In the bright flare of her headlights, she saw him draw his gun; he approached soft-footed, and ready to duck, prepared for any sort of attack.

But none came. He walked all the way up and crouched down beside the shattered passenger window. Even leaned down and braced himself on his hands to peer inside. He swapped his gun for his phone, and snapped a few photos.

“Shh, baby,” Michelle crooned, “shh, shh, you’re fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine, we’re going home soon.” Lilting like a song, and TJ subsided to sniffles and hiccups.

Jinx returned to her window, shaking his head. “If they’re not dead, they will be. I’m not risking putting a bullet in them and leaving a calling card.”

She was afraid to take her hands off the wheel and turn to TJ again; shock was coming on, and she thought she might swoon if she moved too much. “Right.” She swallowed. “That’s smart.”

“Here.” He fished in his pocket, and then handed something through the window to her. It took her a moment to realize it was a wrapped peppermint. “Suck on that. Get some sugar in you, at least until we get back. You good to drive?”

She unwrapped the mint with shaking fingers, and popped it in her mouth. Her nausea was returning, but the taste was instantly soothing. She nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

It seemed to take forever to get home, the familiar roads now sinister, the darkness on either side hiding all sorts of monsters. An animal darted across her lane at one point, and she nearly screamed. She caught a glimpse of sandy brown and tan fur, a bushy tail: a fox.

It felt prophetic.

When they finally pulled in, and she killed the engine, it took all her strength to undo her belt and open her door. Jinx came around and helped her to her feet. Scooped TJ out of his car seat when she realized her arms were in no shape to hold her own baby.

Candy wasn’t home yet, still dealing with Pacer.

With Pacer’s sister, Michelle thought with a detached sort of ugly resentment.

Darla fussed over her; brought her tea with lots of sugar, and a sandwich that she couldn’t eat. Took TJ from her and went to lay him down in the sanctuary.

When she was finally alone, she sank down onto the couch in the sanctuary and folded her legs up beneath her. Still shaking, but more clear-headed now. She pulled out her phone, dialed, and waited.

Not long, though. He answered after the second ring.

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