Page 51 of Help Me Remember

“I’m an inspiring kind of guy,” I said, eyes flicking between the rearview mirror and the road ahead. The traffic was thinning out quickly, which meant Eric was about to get his wish for less potential collateral damage. “We’ve got left or right coming up. Which one?”

“Left will take us toward the city limits,” Eric said in the same tight voice. I didn’t want to make him more stressed out than he already was, but my choice was being taken away by the car growing closer in the mirror.

“Right, well, here’s where we ignore a few traffic laws,” I told him with a grunt, slowing the car just enough to take the turn without spinning and ending up in the ditch.

“And laws of good sense,” he muttered faintly.

“Looks like I’m not alone in that,” I said as I watched the red car take the corner even harder than I had. I couldn’t help but notice that whoever was driving seemed to have a better handle on their stolen vehicle than I did on mine. Whatever I was before, it clearly wasn’t a stunt driver.

Directing my attention back to the road, I looked ahead for possible complications. The road stretched forward, and I could see the way it curved and swerved around what I assumed was the edge of Port Dale. For the most part, one side of the road was dominated by the city, while the other was taken up by thick brush and woods. Enough of the road was in sight that I could see the way the forest eventually stopped, becoming a steep drop.

“I see where this place gets its name,” I said as I put my foot down on the gas pedal.

I could hear the creak of the leather as Eric’s grip tightened on his seat. I was impressed he didn’t tear something when a car pulled out at an intersection, forcing me to swerve to avoid ramming into the side. The maneuver only cost us a couple of seconds, but with the fast approach of the red convertible, every second counted.

“Please do not have a heart attack while we’re trying not to get shot,” I said in as even a tone as I could summon, taking the first curve as safely as I dared. There was another car, but thankfully that one was in the oncoming lane, and I only needed to adjust back into my lane to keep us safe.

“Your compassion leaves a lot to be desired,” he growled at me.

I heard two sharp cracks and glanced at the window next to me as we took the next turn, grimacing faintly when I saw the spidering veins of broken glass running through it. “Let’s just say my compassion has to take a back seat at the moment.”

“What the fuck was that?” he barked, twisting around in his seat.

“Stay down,” I said calmly, banking into the next turn smoothly. “Those were gunshots.”

“He says as if he forgot to turn on his blinker,” Eric groaned, trying to sink lower into his seat.

“More like, I’m not surprised they finally started shooting at us now they’re closer, and there isn’t anyone around to interfere,” I said, knowing they would inevitably catch up to us. Despite knowing better, I had been holding on to a faint hope that at their speed, they wouldn’t be able to keep control of their faster car around the curves. “So, going back to how I can’t focus on being compassionate right now.”

“Christ, you are such an ass sometimes,” Eric groaned, wincing when another bullet pinged off the car, but at least it wasn’t close to us this time. “And why the fuck are you so calm right now?”

“Because we’re flying down a narrow road with two angry men trying to shoot us.”

“Which is a very good reason not to be calm.”

I knew the next stretch of the road would get even more hazardous, especially with the two men catching up quickly. Even if I didn’t need Eric to do much, I knew it was important he remained as calm as possible in the next few minutes.

“Ever had someone come into the clinic, either freaking out because they’re messed up on something or with their guts leaking out?” I asked calmly, feeling our time running out.

“Yeah, but—”

“Give me the worst time.”

Eric let out a noise of frustration. “Guy came in, and yeah, his guts were practically spilling out. Accident, a home improvement DIY thing that went horribly wrong. Screaming, carrying on, as you do when your internal organs are trying to be external.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did you lose it?”

“No! We managed to get him into a room and immediately did what we could to keep him stable and in one piece while we waited for the ambulance to take him to an actual surgeon. Guy was a lot less fussy when we managed to get some drugs inside him.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Was there a point to this conversation?” Eric asked in annoyance, though I could hear a thread of steadiness returning to his voice.

“Just that, right now, I feel a lot calmer than I would if I had to take care of some guy whose liver was trying to break free like a Xenomorph.”

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