Love in an Undead Age, A.M. Geever [best contemporary novels txt] 📗

An hour later they were on the Expressway, headed for San Jose State. Raindrops splatted against the Rover’s windshield so heavily that Miranda could hardly see before the wipers swished back again. Delilah sat in the back seat, unable to sustain her sulk at being displaced from her bed in the face of an open window she could stick her head out of, even though it meant she got wet.

“He’s in a hurry.”

Miranda had noticed the SUV behind them as well. It was gaining fast. Then flashing overhead lights came on. The rain made them look twinkly, like Christmas lights.

“That’s Council Security. Fuck.”

Connor turned to look out the rear window. “How bad is that?”

“It’s usually not good,” Miranda said. She pressed down on the accelerator.

“You’re not going to stop?”

“I don’t want to get stuck here on the Expressway where no one can see us. We’ll try to get to the Farm, or at least to the exit.” She checked the rearview mirror again. “Are they leaning out the windows?”

Connor twisted in his seat as he pulled his handgun from its holster. A boom, followed by a hail of glass, pelted the interior of the Rover.

“Jesus Christ!” Miranda cried, ducking low. She looked in the rearview mirror. The back window was gone. She stood on the accelerator, willing the Rover forward on pure adrenaline. She glanced over at Connor. Dozens of small cuts covered his face. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, his head now even with the dashboard. He touched his face gingerly and pulled a nugget of glass out of his cheek. Delilah barked like a banshee from the back seat.

Connor peeked over the seat. “They’re close, Miri.”

“I can see that.”

The SUV shot forward and rear-ended the Rover with a frightening crunch of metal on metal. Miranda checked the mirror again. She put twenty feet between the Rover and the SUV, then pulled the parking brake and prayed as she jerked the steering wheel. The Rover spun about, a spray of water flying in its wake. The SUV veered away to avoid a collision. Miranda jammed the Rover into gear as she released the brake and accelerated in the opposite direction. She looked back. The SUV had turned around and was once again in pursuit.

“Miri, watch out!”

Miranda looked ahead. A second SUV with lights and sirens merged onto the Expressway only six car lengths ahead and headed straight for them. Miranda waited a moment, then swerved. The second SUV’s front fender connected with the rear fender of the Rover. The Rover jerked hard to the right, but somehow Miranda kept it moving forward.

“The first one’s coming up on your left!”

She was ready for them this time. As the SUV moved to overtake them, Miranda swerved and smacked into its side. The SUV pushed back, trying to trap them against the Expressway wall.

She switched on the flamethrowers. Yellow flames shot up the side of the Rover, so bright they were almost blinding. She glimpsed the horrified look on the face of the man nearest to her as he flinched away from his open window. She slammed the Rover into the SUV again, pushing it past the center line of the road. She looked ahead and her heart sank. Another SUV approached.

“There’s another one,” Connor groaned.

“I see it. Hold on.”

Miranda headed straight for the oncoming SUV. It adjusted away from a collision course with the Rover, which put it on a collision course with the SUV trying to pin them against the Expressway wall. Then a man leaned out the front passenger window of the oncoming SUV. They were so close Miranda could tell he held an AK-47.

“Get down!” she cried.

The first SUV had caught up to them. It rammed the Rover from behind. Shots rang out, from ahead or behind she could not tell. Miranda braced for the next impact, but suddenly the steering wheel listed left. They shot out our tires, she thought. Then the SUV beside them flipped.

Connor shouted, his words lost in the noise of the flipping SUV crashing into them. The impact smacked the Rover against the wall. Miranda yanked the steering wheel hard, trying to spin out around it, but the slippery road offered no purchase. Gunfire seemed to come from all directions as the blur of the oncoming SUV rocketed past them.

The Rover spun in a circle before tipping on two wheels. Miranda tried to correct, but it was too late. The concrete roadway rushed toward her window, and then she was upside down. Her head thumped the headrest and spots danced before her eyes. They slid across the pavement in a shower of sparks and flame. Delilah yipped and whimpered in the back seat.

The noise and chaos was supplanted by an eerie silence and the steady drum of the rain. She felt Connor’s hand on her arm.

“You okay?” she asked. The coppery taste of blood tinged her mouth. She smacked at the flamethrower switch. The reflection of bright yellow flames vanished from the wet concrete.

Connor grimaced as he moved his shoulder. “Good enough. We have to get out of here.”

More gunfire—short, controlled bursts—then footsteps running toward them. Miranda heard the click of Connor’s seat belt while she struggled with her own. He fell to the roof of the car with a groan.

“Mine’s stuck!” she hissed. She felt for the machete mounted on the ceiling below her, but it wasn’t there anymore. She tried the door. Jammed.

I can’t believe this is it, she thought, dazed. I’m going to die in a drive-by. I always thought it would be a zombie.

“Don’t shoot!” a voice called out. “We’re here to help.”

Five sets of feet stepped into the Rover’s headlights, then a man dressed in black combat fatigues with a machine gun slung over his shoulder crouched by Miranda’s window.

“Are you okay?” his muffled voice asked through the rain-spattered glass.

Before she could answer, the door on Connor’s side creaked opened. Hands reached in to pull him out, followed by a murmur of voices.

The man outside Miranda’s window spoke again. “Turn away, ma’am. I have to break the window.”

Miranda twisted away as best she could. She heard two loud thunks. The third blow was accompanied by a sharp crack, the next with a spray of glass.

“My seat belt is stuck,” Miranda said, turning back.

She shook her head to dislodge pieces of glass from her hair and the world tilted and swayed around her. She did not know who these people were, probably had another concussion, and was trapped upside down in her own car. Given the circumstances, it was hard to think of this man as her rescuer. For all she knew the Rover was the frying pan and these people were the fire, but she didn’t have much choice.

“Is my dog okay? She’s in the back.”

The man switched on a flashlight and squinted through the open back window.

“I see her,” he answered. His face went out of view as he turned away. “Miller, come get the dog! I have to cut her out.”

A second man appeared and started calling to Delilah through the open back door window. Miranda heard Delilah wriggle through the window and begin to whine. The man beside Miranda produced a utility knife.

“She’s okay?” another voice demanded.

“Looks like it,” the man working to free her said.

“Liley,” the demanding voice said. “What a good girl you are! I’m glad you’re all right.”

Miranda couldn’t place the voice. There were other people talking and the rain seemed louder than ever, but whoever it was knew Delilah. She relaxed the tiniest bit.

“Can you put your hands down so you don’t fall, ma’am? Can you take any weight on your