Escape

by Harini 05:20:00 3 comments thriller

A nail biting car-chase short story.

There was no warning. Although she immediately slammed her foot on the brakes, it was already too late. There was a dull thump from the front bumper and something rocked the car.

A small black creature had shot across her path, and despite her quick reactions, she hadn't been able to avoid hitting it. Diana screeched to a halt, wondering if the animal could possibly have survived. She reversed slowly back to the spot where she thought she had hit it.

And then she saw it - a dead cat. She stepped out of the car and walked toward the lifeless body. 

Suddenly Diana felt sick. 

"I'm so sorry," she said, feeling a little silly. She gave it one last look before walking back to her car.

She tried to stop thinking about the cat as she waited for a gap in the traffic large enough to allow her to ease her way back into the slow lane. She eventually succeeded but was still unable to erase the dead cat from her mind.

Diana had accelerated up to fifty again when she suddenly a pair of headlights shined through her rear windshield. She slowed down to allow the vehicle to pass, but the driver showed no interest in doing so. Diana began to wonder if there was something wrong with her car. Was one of her lights not working? Was the exhaust billowing smoke? Was...?

She decided to speed up and put some distance between herself and the vehicle behind, but it remained within a few feet of her bumper. She tried to snatch a look at the driver in her rear-view mirror, but it was hard to see much through the brightness of the lights. As her eyes became more accustomed to the glare, all she could make out was a large black van, and what looked like a young man behind the wheel. He seemed to be waving at her.

Diana slowed down again, giving him every chance to overtake her in the fast lane, but once again he didn't take the opportunity and just sat on her bumper, his headlights still undimmed. She waited for a small gap in the traffic coming from her right. When one appeared, she slammed her foot on the accelerator and sped up in the fast lane.

She was rid of him at last. She was just beginning to relax and to think about how excited she was to see Daniel, her brother, again, when suddenly those high headlights were glaring through her rear windshield and blinding her once again. They were even closer to her than before as if that was possible.

She slowed down, he slowed down. She accelerated, he accelerated. She tried reaching for her cell phone, but then, she remembered it was out of battery. Damn. She tried to think what she could do next. She tried to think of other ways she might alert someone.

She brushed her hand across her forehead and removed the beads of sweat, thought for a moment, then turned her car into the fast lane. The van swung across after her and hovered so close to her bumper that she became fearful that if she so much as touched her brakes she might unwittingly cause a pile-up.

Diana took the car up to ninety, but the van wouldn't be shaken off. She pushed her foot further down on the accelerator and touched a hundred, but it still remained less than a car's length behind. She flicked her headlights onto high and blasted her horn at anyone who was in her path. She could only hope that the police might see her. A fine would be infinitely preferable to a crash, she thought, as the Audi suburban passed 110 for the first time in its life. But the black van still couldn't be shaken off.

Without warning, she swerved back into the middle lane and took her foot off the accelerator, causing the van to pull up with her, which gave her a chance to look at the driver for the first time. He was wearing a black leather jacket and pointing menacingly at her. She accelerated away, but he simply swung across behind her.

And then she remembered something and felt sick for a second time that night. 

"Oh my God!" she shouted aloud in terror. 

Suddenly, the details of the murder that had taken place on the same road a few months before came rushing back to her. A woman had been raped before having her throat cut with a knife. The police were still searching for the killer. Diana began to tremble as she remembered their warning to all women drivers: "Never stop on the highway."

A few seconds later she saw a road sign she knew well. She had reached it far sooner than she had anticipated. In three miles she would have to leave the motorway for the side road that led to the farm. She began to pray that if she took her usual turn, the black-jacketed man would continue up the Highway and she would finally be rid of him.

Diana decided that the time had come for her to send him on his way. She swung back into the fast lane and once again put her foot down on the accelerator. She reached a hundred miles per hour for the second time as she sped past the two-mile sign. Her body was now covered in sweat, and the speedometer touched 110. 

She checked her rear-view mirror, but he was still right behind her. She would have to pick the exact moment if she was to execute her plan successfully. With a mile to go, she began to look to her left, to be sure her timing would be perfect. She no longer needed to check in her mirror to know that he would still be there.

The next signpost showed three diagonal white lines, warning her that she ought to be on the inside lane if she intended to leave the freeway at the next junction. She kept the car in the outside lane at a hundred miles per hour until she spotted a large enough gap. Two white lines appeared by the roadside: Diana knew she would have only one chance to make her escape. As she passed the sign with a single white line on it, she suddenly swung across the road at ninety miles per hour, causing cars in the middle and inside lanes to throw on their brakes and blast out their angry opinions. But Diana didn't care what they thought of her, because she was now traveling down the side road to safety, and the black van was speeding on up the highways.

She laughed out loud with relief. To her right, she could see the steady flow of traffic on the motorway. But then her laugh turned to a scream as she saw the black van cut sharply across the freeway in front of a truck, mount the grass verge, and career onto the side road, swinging from side to side. It nearly drove over the edge and into a ditch but somehow managed to steady itself, ending up a few feet behind her, its lights once again glaring through her rear windshield.

When she reached the beginning of the side road, Diana turned left in the direction of the farm, frantically trying to work out what she should do next. The nearest town was about twelve miles away on the main road, and the farm was only seven, but five of those miles were down a winding unlit country lane. She checked her gas gauge. It was nearing empty, but there should still be enough in the tank for her to consider either option. There was less than a mile to go before she reached the turn, so she had only a minute in which to make up her mind.

With a hundred feet to go, she settled on the farm. Despite the unlit lane, she knew every twist and turn, and she felt confident that her pursuer wouldn't. Once she reached the farm she could be out of the car and inside the house long before he could catch her. In any case, once he saw the farmhouse, surely he would flee.The minute was up. Diana touched the brakes and skidded into a country road illuminated only by the moon.

Diana banged the palms of her hands on the steering wheel. Had she made the wrong decision? She glanced up at her rear-view mirror. Had he given up? Of course, he hadn't. The back of a Land Rover loomed up in front of her. Diana slowed down, waiting for a corner she knew well, where the road widened slightly. She held her breath, crashed into third gear, and overtook. Would a head-on collision be preferable to a cut throat? She rounded the bend and saw an empty road ahead of her. Once again she pressed her foot down, this time managing to put a clear seventy, perhaps even a hundred, feet between her and her pursuer, but this only offered her a few moments' respite. 

Before long the familiar headlights came bearing down on her once again. With each bend, Diana was able to gain a little time as the van continued to lurch from side to side, unfamiliar with the road, but she never managed a clear break of more than a few seconds. She checked the speedometer. From the turnoff on the main road to the farm was just over five miles, and she must have covered about two by now. She began to watch each tenth of a mile clicking up, terrified at the thought of the van overtaking her and forcing her into the ditch. She stuck determinedly to the center of the road.

Another mile passed, and still, he clung to her. Suddenly she saw a car coming toward her. She switched her headlights to full and pressed on the horn. The other car retaliated by mimicking her actions, which caused her to slow down and brush against the hedgerow as they shot past each other. She checked the speedometer once again. 

Only two miles to go.

Diana would slow down and then speed up at each familiar bend in the road, making sure the van was never given enough room to pull up with her. She tried to concentrate on what she should do once the farmhouse came into sight. She reckoned that the drive leading up to the house must be about half a mile long. It was full of potholes and bumps that Daniel had often explained he couldn't afford to have repaired. But at least it was only wide enough for one car.

The gate to the driveway was usually left open for her, though on the odd rare occasion Daniel had forgotten, and she'd had to get out of the car and open it for herself. She couldn't risk that tonight. If the gate was closed, she would have to travel on to the next town and stop outside the Crimson Kipper, which was always crowded at this time on a Friday night, or, if she could find it, at the steps of the local police station. She checked her gas gauge again. It was now touching red. 

"Oh my God," she said, realizing she might not have enough gas to reach the town.

She could only pray that Daniel had remembered to leave the gate open. She swerved out of the next bend and speeded up, but once again she managed to gain only a few feet, and she knew that within seconds he would be back in place. He was. For the next few hundred feet, they remained within feet of each other, and she felt certain he had to run into the back of her. She didn't once dare to touch her brakes---if they crashed in that lane, far from any help, she would have no hope of getting away from him.

She checked her speedometer. A mile to go.

"The gate must be open. It must be open," she prayed. As she swung around the next bend, she could make out the outline of the farmhouse in the distance. She almost screamed with relief when she saw that the lights were on in the downstairs rooms.

She shouted, "Thank God!" then remembered the gate again, and changed her plea to "Dear God, let it be open." 

She would know what needed to be done as soon as she came around the last bend. 

"Let it be open, just this once," she pleaded. "I'll never ask for anything again, ever." 

She swung round the final bend only inches ahead of the black van. 

"Please, please, please." And then she saw the gate.

It was open.

Her clothes were now drenched in sweat. She slowed down, wrenched the car into second gear, and threw the car between the gap and into the bumpy driveway, hitting the gatepost on her right-hand side as she careered on up toward the house. The van didn't hesitate to follow her and was still only inches behind as she straightened out. Diana kept her hand pressed down on the horn as the car bounced and lurched over the mounds and potholes.

Flocks of startled crows flapped out of overhanging branches, screeching as they shot into the air. 

Diana began screaming, "Daniel! Daniel!" 

Two hundred feet ahead of her, the porch light went on. Her headlights were now shining onto the front of the house, and her hand was still pressed on the horn. With a hundred feet to go, she spotted Daniel coming out of the front door, but she didn't slow down, and neither did the van behind her. With fifty feet to go, she began flashing her lights at Daniel. She could now make out the puzzled, anxious expression on his face.

With thirty feet to go, she threw on her brakes. The heavy car skidded across the gravel in front of the house, coming to a halt in the flower bed just below the kitchen window. She heard the screech of brakes behind her. The leather-jacketed man, unfamiliar with the terrain, had been unable to react quickly enough, and as soon as his wheels touched the graveled forecourt he began to skid out of control. A second later the van came crashing into the back of her car, slamming it against the wall of the house and shattering the glass in the kitchen window.

Diana leaped out of the car screaming, "Daniel! Get a gun, get a gun!" She pointed back at the van. "That bastard's been chasing me for the last twenty miles!"

The man jumped out of the van and began limping toward them. Diana ran into the house. Daniel followed and grabbed a shotgun, normally reserved for rabbits, that was leaning against the wall. He ran back outside to face the unwelcome visitor, who had come to a halt by the back of Diana's Audi. Daniel raised the shotgun to his shoulder and stared straight at him. 

"Don't move or I'll shoot," he said calmly. And then he remembered that the gun wasn't loaded. 

Diana ducked back out of the house but remained behind him.

"Not me! Not me!" shouted the leather-jacketed youth, as Rachael appeared in the doorway.

"What's going on?" she asked nervously.

"Call the police," was all Daniel said, and his wife quickly disappeared back into the house.

Daniel advanced toward the terrified-looking young man, the gun aimed squarely at his chest.

"Not me! Not me!" he shouted again, pointing at the Audi. "He's in the car!" He quickly turned to face Diana. "I saw him get in when you were parked. What else could I have done? You just wouldn't pull over."

Daniel advanced cautiously toward the rear door of the car and ordered the young man to open it slowly, while he kept the gun aimed at his chest.The youth opened the door and quickly took a pace backward. The three of them stared down at a man crouched on the floor of the car. In his right hand, he held a long-bladed knife with a serrated edge. Daniel swung the barrel of the gun down to point at him but said nothing.

The sound of a police siren could just be heard in the distance.