Page 86 of Dating After the End of the World
“No! We aren’t going back.” The knuckles on his hands are white from how tightly he’s gripping the steering wheel.
“Yes, we are.”
I lunge across the center console and grab the steering wheel, trying to turn it hard to the left. Nate steadies it, bringing the car back under control after it drifts briefly in the road. He screams at me to stop, but I don’t. I grab for it again, but this time he throws a hard, sharp elbow directly into my eye.
“Knock it off, Casey! You’re gonna kill us both,” he yells.
My head slams into the window as I’m sent reeling back from the blow. Searing pain shoots up into my skull and travels down my spine. A massive headache instantly roars its way into existence, clouding my vision.
Nate snaps his head back and forth, looking over at me while still keeping his eyes on the road. I’m not sure whether he’s checking on me out of concern or checking to make sure I won’t attack him.
“You motherfucker!” I lunge across the center console again, but this time not at the steering wheel—at Nate. My fingers are outstretched and curled, like a pair of talons ready to lay waste to the skin on his face. I claw and scratch at his cheek, ear, and eyes, trying to distract him from his driving.
“Ack! Casey! Stop it! I can’t see!”
His reflexes kick in, and he lets go of the wheel, grabbing at my hands to try to stop me. But I’ve already abandoned his face and quickly grip the now-free steering wheel, whipping it hard to the left. The tires let out a violent squeal, burned rubber instantly filling the cabin with a rotten stench. We shoot across the road like a rocket, onto the shoulder and into the grass. Nate slams on the brakes but it’s too late. The tires lock up on the soft soil, careening us toward a mighty oak tree, the Porsche no longer in anyone’s control. The sounds of metal crunching and glass shattering are the last things I remember before everything goes black.
Chapter 35
My ears are ringing, a high-pitched whistle that drowns out any other noise. Slowly, my eyes flutter open as the scene before me begins to reveal itself, piece by piece. The canvas of the deflated airbag, dangling down at my feet, flecks of red staining it in too many places to count. The cracked windshield spiderwebbed in all directions, making it impossible to see what’s on the other side. Twinkling diamonds litter the car like a freshly fallen snow, dazzling brilliantly against the red leather interior.
The side of my face feels like a pincushion, with dozens of needles sticking out in all directions. The pads of my fingers gently find the sources of pain. I bring my hand to my line of sight, seeing it’s now coated in sticky red, like I’ve just finished eating a rack of ribs.
I try moving my extremities and am relieved, realizing my legs work just fine. Undoing my safety belt, I climb out of the totaled vehicle. The hood of Nate’s Porsche is wrapped tightly around a tree, the small German sports car being no match for the towering arboreal giant. Steam rises from the warped hot metal, drops of fluid splashing onto the ground. I stagger, nearly tumbling over, but grip the car door to steady myself for a moment.
Nate is passed out on the steering column, the deflated airbag hanging below him like a bib. Small droplets of blood have already begun to dry on his forehead.
Ksshh!!! Beep. “Dr. Warner? Paging Dr. Warner!” A man’s voice emits from somewhere in the car.
Static is cut by a quick beep, followed by more static. A muffled voice comes through again.
“Dr. Warner, if you can hear me, you’re free to go. We’re starting our approach to the compound now. Thanks for leaving the gate open. Enjoy that girl of yours and steer clear. Ya hear? Because there won’t be another deal on the table the next time we run into each other.” A deep laugh erupts before static takes over and the line clicks dead.
I dive into the back seat and scramble for the source of the noise, finding a small black walkie-talkie underneath the driver’s seat.
“You son of a bitch,” I spit at his unconscious body, and a part of me hopes he didn’t survive the accident. I try the radio, hoping I can delay the attack of whoever is on the other line, but after a dozen attempts, I give up, realizing they probably shut it off to move incognito.
I turn to run back toward the house. Unfortunately, thanks to Nate driving in the opposite direction, we’re now even farther from the compound. It only takes a few steps of attempting to jog before I realize the damage the accident has inflicted. While my legs are intact and not bleeding, my deeply bruised shins make themselves known in a violent and agonizing way, pain shooting through my bones with each step.
“Fuck,” I yell.
I hear the creaking of metal hinges and the crunching of glass just before “Casey!” is let out into the void.
Nate leans against the back corner of his Porsche, staggering in place. His shoulder looks to be dislocated again, and there’s an unnatural bend in his right ankle, likely an unclean fracture that won’t heal properly without surgery.
“Casey!” he calls again, struggling to keep himself vertical as he attempts to move toward me. “Where are you going?”
Nate’s hand slips off the car and his ankle snaps beneath him, dropping him instantly to the ground. He screams out in agony.
I narrow my eyes. “I’m going to save my family.”
His painful cries morph into a twisted laugh as he shakes his head in disapproval. “You’ll die trying.”
“I’d rather die with them today than spend the rest of my life with you.”
“God, you are more useless and stupid than I thought you were. I knew I made the right decision leaving you behind.” He cracks a wide smile, revealing bloodstained teeth, relishing in his confession.
Piece of shit.I turn my back on Nate and start walking, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my anger.
