‘No, you’re all right, Hayden,’ I said. ‘I think I will join Pete up front, after all.’
‘Why?’
‘Just to give you more space like Pete said. And, you know, to not put you off.’
‘Fuck. You’re freaking out, aren’t you?’ Hayden said. ‘Look at you, gnawing on your lip.’
Bugger, I hadn’t even noticed I was doing it. ‘Of course I’m not freaking out.’
‘Bullshit. I honestly thought it might just be an act for college but you really are Miss Goody Two Shoes, aren’t you?’
Gee, thanks, Hayden.
‘So what if I am?’
‘It’s just so … boring. Don’t you think?’
I couldn’t even bring myself to reply. Instead, I sighed and mentally scribbled over his name from the shortlist in thick, black, permanent marker pen as he snorted up the last of the line. Impossible as it seemed after his earlier sleaze-factor, he’d sunk even lower in my estimation. Saved from having to come up with a polite decline, I got to my feet and clambered over his and Max’s legs, thankful I’d worn trousers—not that anybody was paying attention to me, anyway—and I reached the doors easily enough, but they wouldn’t budge.
‘Mind yourself.’ Pete’s voice in my ear made me jump to the side, narrowly missing Max’s fingers.
Pete turned side on, his back to me, then bumped his hip against the door at the same time as he pushed. On the second go, the door swung open and let in a surge of deliciously fresh air. Inhaling sharply, I filled my lungs, then stepped out onto the concrete to make my way to the front door. I flopped into the passenger seat, or rather my end of the bench, and tugged sharply on the wide ribbon to make sure the locking mechanism worked before I clipped myself in.
Funnily enough, it didn’t make me feel any better.
The sounds of tapping and then snorting from the back didn’t help, either.
Pete took his seat behind the wheel and fired up the engine. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and bumped up and over the kerb to the protests from the back. I clung onto the door handle with both hands as he then pulled out onto the road without even looking, driving way too fast. Never in my life had I wanted to break the law so badly. Why hadn’t I lied and got us the hell out of there? I stood just as good a chance as Pete of getting us all home safely, probably better, even without a licence.
‘Um … you might want to put the headlights on, Pete.’
‘Oh, yeah. Cheers.’
We lurched so fast around one bend, the snare drum landed with a crash. Instead of slowing down, as any sane guy would, Pete seemed to accept it as a challenge and took the next bend even faster. I jammed my eyes closed but that only seemed to make my other senses stronger, so I knew the exact moment two of the wheels left the road.
I’m going to die.
My eyelids flew open on instinct and the world was on a peculiar, terrifying angle. I didn’t dare breathe out, my lips clamped shut, just in case it made all the difference between rolling the van onto its side and down the bank, and getting all four wheels back on the ground. Finally, we tipped the right way, landing with a thump. I yelped, winded by the force of the impact, but Pete just laughed, and gunned the accelerator even harder.
Enough.
‘Stop!’
‘Huh?’ Pete took his eyes off the road and looked at me. Talk about wired, it was a wonder he hadn’t killed the lot of us already.
‘Stop the van, I want to get out.’ My voice caught in my throat and my eyes implored him to slow down. ‘Please …’
‘It’s fine …’ Pete took one hand off the wheel and stopped looking at the road altogether. I bit back a whimper and tightened my grip on the handle. Pete fumbled around for something, I didn’t know what, unable to tear my gaze off the road whizzing by. Half of a rollup cigarette appeared in front of my nose, the smell telling me there was more than tobacco in there. ‘Here, get a light on this and have a few drags. It’ll help you relax.’
‘Like hell it will.’ I slapped his hand away. Manners weren’t working, time to try a different approach. ‘I said stop the van, Pete. I want to get out. Now.’
‘Fine.’ He slammed on the brakes and brought us to a screeching halt.
I didn’t even have time to react, let alone get into a brace position, but the seatbelt did its job. For a nanosecond, I hadn’t been sure and visions of flying through the windscreen were all too vivid. Curses fired at Pete from the rear as equipment crashed and rolled around the floor. I almost felt sorry for the stoned idiots in the back. Not enough to make me stick around, though. All fingers and thumbs, I fought with the seatbelt, struggling to get free.
Pete banged his knuckles against the metal divide and shouted, ‘Hayden, your lady is leaving. Are you staying or going?’
‘He’s staying,’ I muttered, before Hayden had a chance to answer. The seatbelt finally released me and I wrenched on the handle to open the door. Ignoring the step, I leaped straight down on the road.
Freedom.
Pete revved the engine and made the wheels spin, presumably trying to goad me, but I refused to make eye contact. I turned back just long enough to slam the door shut on the heap of junk, then ran to the side of the road. He peeled away, earning more disgruntled shouts. From the sanctuary of the grass verge, I watched the red tail lights race around the next bend before disappearing, leaving only silence and blackness in its wake.
Pitched into total darkness, I had to wait for my eyes to adjust. I turned in a circle, my chest tightening with each breath. Nothing was familiar. There were no landmarks, no signposts, not one thing to give me a clue to my location. I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but a dead phone.
Omigod, what have I done?
Chapter Four
CHASE
Giving up and sinking to the kerb would have been easy—understandable, given the circumstances—but I forced myself to move, to put one foot in front of the other, and followed the road in the direction the van had taken. The silence wasn’t so silent after all. Leaves rustled in the trees overhead, nocturnal creatures scurried in the undergrowth, and I kept hearing a weird squeaking sound, which turned out to be bats flying above me in the starless sky.
Time didn’t mean anything to me—without my phone, I was useless—so I counted paces instead. I didn’t know how true it was, but I’d once read a thing about the Roman Empire and how the army used to count each time the left foot hit the ground. Why it stuck in my mind was anyone’s guess. Since I’d started counting, I’d walked over four thousand steps, so, going by Roman army theory, I’d already walked over two miles. An orange haze glowed some way ahead, spurring me on, and, after a further fifteen hundred steps, the sounds of nature slowly faded away, replaced by faint traffic sounds.
Another two thousand steps—another mile—and I came to a junction but with no road signs to guide me. The new road had street lamps at least, which had to mean civilisation—eventually—but which way to turn? Left or right? I stood on the corner of the junction and I stared in each direction, finally convincing myself that the glow seemed stronger coming from the left. Setting off again, I’d walked only another five hundred and twenty-seven steps when I spotted a bus stop glinting in the distance.
Yes!
Unfortunately, it wasn’t like the modern ones I was used to, with the digital board telling you the time and when the next bus was due.