Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I close my eyes and pray for the first time in who knows how long. The motorcycles are much easier to maneuver, but at this speed, even the smallest error or surprise will turn us into ground beef.
Long River comes up ahead of us, fast. Underneath the approaching bridge, the water roils, dark and muddy from all the erosion after the torrential rain we had just before the heat wave. All we have to do is cross to get into South Side, where our chances of help improve drastically if one of the Screaming Eagle patrols picks up what’s going on.
I look to our left and see a car bump against Mack's back wheel. I scream, watching him veer across the lane, nearly skidding out on the asphalt before recovering. He stays up, but it kills his speed and he drops out of sight. Scrapper raises a fist and falls back, probably to help Mack. A moment later, the cracks of gunshots cut through the engine noises. l hope he's the one shooting, and not the one getting shot at but I can't tell.
We shoot onto the bridge, the sound of the wheels changing to a hollow rattle that knocks my teeth together. A moment later I hear the deeper rumble of car wheels hitting the same surface. It's coming. I close my eyes and wait.
The bike lurches as something hits the rear fender.
“Reaper!” I scream, his name torn right out of my mouth by the wind.
He veers one way, and then the other, but a second car boxes us in to the right. To the left is a railing that’s the only thing keeping us from the cold river below.
Oh God, we're going to die, and this is going to be all my fault. It's got to be. I don't know if it was the judge, Mullerby, or someone who saw us in City Hall, but there's no way this isn't related.
Reaper, Scrapper and Mack are guilty of nothing but trying to keep me safe, and I’m getting us all killed. Danny was right, in the end, but I don't think I'll be around for him to tell me that he told me so.
The cars inch closer, closing the box. Our bumper's nudged again, making the back wheel kick out. For a moment, I think we're doomed, but Reaper manages to keep us upright. His skill is the only thing keeping us alive, but that can only work for so long.
Like they can hear my thoughts, the car behind us rams hard, launching the bike forwards and sideways, so that the front wheel catches on the bridge railing. Holding onto Reaper doesn't help when both of us are thrown off the bike. There's a loud crunch beneath us as his bike crumples under the car, and then we're over the railing, flipping out of control and heading straight for the dark water under the bridge.
It was fun while it lasted.
20
REAPER
Fuck! There isn’t time to think or plan. I grab Mila and try to hold myself as long and vertically as possible so I hit first. It still hurts like a bitch, and as soon as we go under, Mila's grip around me is torn away in an instant. I try to twist and reach for her, but the current’s too strong and we’re both still rocketing down through the shit colored water.
She's gone.
I wanna scream, but if I do, I'm gonna drink down this whole damn river. She better be able to fucking swim or I’m going to kill her.
It goes against every instinct, but I keep my head cool and work with the current not against it. Eventually the momentum lets up and I can push towards the surface. My lungs are fucking burning when I take the first gasp of air mixed with muddy water. Jesus, this current is gonna rip my fucking clothes off if they don’t sink me first. The bridge is already way behind me and it’s disappearing fast. I should be glad the fall didn't kill me, but unless I get myself under control I'm either gonna be smashed against a rock or washed out at sea.
And where the fuck is Mila?
Shit.
The river roars in my ears as I try to move closer to shore every time the current works in my favor. I’m trying to save energy, but it’s fucking hard when my clothes are trying to kill me. We said we'd keep her safe, and if I fucked that up, I don't know if I can fucking live with myself. I might be an asshole, but I've always been a man of my goddamn word.
The current spins me around, slamming me into something so hard I lose my breath, then carries me with it before I can get a grip on it. I think it was a post left over from one of the old wooden bridges that have never been cleared out. I right myself just in time to spot another one, but my fingers slide over the rotten wood, not finding anything to grab onto.