Page 18 of Bump in the Night
Is this a fucking undercover police car? Is it stolen? Borrowed from a corrupt cop? Am I dealing with two corrupt cops right now? I have no time to go through all the possibilities. The siren wails as the back of the car keeps speeding toward me and painting the houses around us in blue and redlights.
When I get to the corner I drift onto the street and the car in front of me shifts into drive again, whipping onto a wide street flanked with short, stocky lofts and old, worn factory buildings on either side. There’s music pumping from the broken windows in the building to my left, and on my right, a newly burned-out building looks like it’s insides have been freshly decimated into ash. I shift gears and hit the gas harder. I’m fucking losing them, but I need to keep them in mysight.
The railroad is up ahead. My knuckle bones could pop though my skin right now. I try to loosen up my shoulders and I crack my neck, but there’s nothing I can do to ease the tension. I know it’s a kick-in-the-ass adrenal response to danger, and the tension is making me laser-focused – clear.Determined.
When we get to the railroad tracks, I expect them to floor the pedal and try to lose me, but instead the driver hits a sudden turn to the left and starts racing down the railroadtracks.
I take a deep breath and ease onto the brakes to take the turn. Security lights suspended on poles high above the rails pop on one-by-one as we race onto the tracks. We have a one-way ticket to getting smashed head-on by a speedingtrain.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
The lights keep bursting above us. I don’t know if our creator is shining a spotlight on our wickedness – or the devil is setting us up to perform forhim.
All I can do is white-knuckle the steering wheel and keep my eyes straightahead.
