Page 45 of Wild Embers
I can’t make out the plates, make and model, or even the vehicle's color. All I can tell is that it’s dark.
The engine revs, closing the distance again for another tap. I push the gas pedal another inch closer to the floor to get myself out of range. At the same time, I reach for my radio.
“Jo, I’ve got a vehicle?—”
Another hit.
This one harder than the last.
Back tires fishtailing over the ice-covered road, I struggle to regain control of my truck.
“Walk? Are you there?” Jolene answers me back.
“Yeah, I’m here. I?—”
The car behind me moves to the left lane and speeds up. I slam my foot on the gas pedal, and my engine roars, working hard to push forward. I search for any distinguishing marks on the truck but find none.
But I’m not able to get ahead of him.
“Walk?”
“Jo, I’m on Highway 109, heading north. Please send?—”
I’m cut off again when the truck swerves into my lane, ramming into the bed near my tire. I start to spin, slowing everything down. Placing both hands on the wheel, I steer into the turn and take my foot off the gas.
But I’m already going too fast.
My windshield looks out over the trees along the road, and I don’t seem to be slowing down, and I’m still spinning.
Metal scrapes again, and I’m headed off the road and into the trees.
There’s a blow to my midsection, and my head is thrown backward.
One blink, and it all goes dark.
Ringing.
Static.
Hissing.
“Walker? Walker Robert Maddox, you better answer me right now.”
Groaning, I force my eyes open, but it’s just a peep before they close again. Something warm and wet drips down the side of my face. I try to take a deep breath, but it’s cut short by a sharp pain.
Great, a broken rib.
The sound of a car door shutting reaches me. “Help,” I try to shout, but it comes out as more of a moan.
Reluctantly, my eyes close again.
I’m so tired. Maybe I can rest for a bit.
Something cold and sharp presses into my skin, pushing adrenaline through my veins. Opening my eyes again, I discover a knife at my throat.
Angling my head, I try to find the person, but he growls out, “Don’t move.”
With my right hand out of his sight, I slip it onto the seat belt and attempt to unbuckle myself, but it’s jammed.
