The words of an ex of mine came back to haunt me as I stared down at the gray around my writsts: never get tied up.
It probably didn’t matter because he could’ve killed me multiple times over, but I knew nothing good would come.
We were ten miles up the road, almost to the I-74 exit, when Six’s grip tightened on the wheel and his foot pressed on the gas. His gaze flickered to the mirrors, but when I looked, there were no red and blue lights like I expected. In fact, there was nothing but other cars.
He began weaving in and out of traffic, but even with everything, we still didn’t stand out. The moment we passed the border into Indiana, he pulled into the inside lane and slammed on the gas, rocketing us forward. It was then I noticed a white sedan behind us doing the same.
We were being followed. Not by law enforcement, which probably meant it was someone as equally dangerous as him.
Six rolled down the windows as the other car gained on us. “Get down on the floor unless you want your bullet now.” He grabbed his gun and a new clip, reloading it.
I frantically unlatched the seatbelt and slid to the carpet, tucking my body as far and deep into the space as I could. The wind whipped my hair around, and when I twisted and reached up to grab it, I brushed against his hand. His arm was outstretched, gun high. He pulled on the trigger in quick succession.
I covered my ears. Even with the silencer it was too loud, being that close. The cool calm from before continued to surround him, but the surprise on his face was noticeable when the other car returned fire. I cringed and squeezed my eyes tight with each bullet that struck us. More than one made it through the layers of the door, missing me by inches.
A sudden movement knocked my head into the center console as the other car sideswiped us. I cried out and grabbed my forehead. Another couple of shots rang out, then tires squealed.
“Damn it.” The engine revved again, and he closed up the windows. “Get up.”
I pulled myself up, noting our speed had passed one hundred and the other car had disappeared.
Again, my heart was pounding, this time in sync with the bump on my head as I attempted to latch the belt again. My teeth chattered as tears flowed down my cheeks.
“Too much. This is too fucking much.”
He pulled off on the first exit we came upon, somewhere in the middle of nowhere Indiana. “This has only begun.”
Sobs burst from me in waves that rattled my core. It was all happening, not a dream. My coworkers, my friends, were dead. “Why? Why are you doing this? What is going on?”
His gaze never left the road. “None of that matters. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Why did you kill them all?” So many lives, gone.
“Collateral damage, just as you’ll be.” No emotion. A mechanical response.
Who is he?
“You don’t have to kill me, just let me go. I swear I won’t say anything.” It was a feeble plea. One I wanted to believe would work, but after what I’d seen, I knew was a hopeless dream.
He shook his head. “Doesn’t work like that. You have information, which is the only reason you’re alive right now.”
“So last night meant nothing?” I asked, more than willing to pimp out my body to live.
“Its purpose was pleasure. Nothing more,” he said. His words cut right through me, adding to everything else, and made my stomach turn. “And you were excellent at giving it.”
“Asshole. You knew you were going to kill me, and you fucked me,” I said, tears spilling freely.
He took a sharp turn down a county road and the car accelerated, forcing me back into the seat. “Wrong. I didn’t know until I lined up my gun to your head.”
That didn’t help.
It felt like every muscle was vibrating from being clenched so tight.
The car was tense, my hands still bound as I waited. So many questions flowed through my brain along with all of the what-ifs to go with the sheer, undeniable shock. There was a chance it could all be a dream, but the pain in my wrists squashed any further thoughts of my reality being any different.
“What do you know?” he asked, breaking the silence.
I shook my head. If I told him, there’d be no reason to keep me alive.
“I can get it out of you, but it’s easier on you if you just tell me.”
A tear spilled down my cheek, lip trembling. “I don’t want to die.” My voice, even forced, was barely above a whisper.
“Everybody dies.”
I didn’t know to take that as a generalization, or that everyone he came into contact with died.
He offered no words, no sense of remorse, and the quiet resumed.
We hit over three hours of painful silence, with the exception of my crying. I wanted to enjoy the scenery, but the situation wouldn’t allow it. At least I would’ve had beautiful images as the last thing I saw instead of the gruesome ones from the lab.
In his haste, he saved me from seeing what he’d done to Marcy and the others, but from his precision…