Lab Rat part 83

Posted: April 29, 2011 in Fiction, Test Subject

“Fuck.” Watching the world swirl by in the windshield gives me a glimpse of what’s happening. It also makes me nauseous. I guess it would be worse if I had eaten recently. On my second trip around, I do my best to count patrol cars. Three marked and one black SUV with red and blue lights in the windows. “We all still here?!” I growl through clenched teeth.

“What the hell did we hit?” Dad doesn’t seem thrilled. Big surprise.

“I didn’t hit shit!”

“Watch your damn mouth, kid!” The van completes a second rotation. It’s still spinning. The tires sound like a canary with hiccups. “Where did you learn to drive?”

“I’m sorry I don’t go spinning out much!” The van finally stops. My vision keeps jumping to the left. I can make out the three patrol cars and the one unmarked SUV. We’re facing them. I stomp the clutch down and slam the stick into reverse. I gas it, and we lurch forward. Shit.

“Reverse is on the front of the tree!” God, please let this be the only time I ever appreciate Dad’s backseat driving. I clutch and shift into actual reverse. I gas it again. The tires chirp as the engine orders a sudden direction change. This time, the van goes backwards. The cops close in on us. I’m not a good enough driver to turn us around fast enough. They’re going to pin us. Okay, new game then. I shift back into first. This is a game I know I can win. The engine growls like it likes this plan, and we go forward. The oncoming cop cars take up the entirety of the street, but if there’s one thing that’s been proven again and again in the last few minutes, it’s that my car is bigger. “Ash, what the hell!”

“You guys might want to hang on to something.” I don’t really worry about whether they heard me. They’re smart. They’ll figure it out. I decide that I’m plowing through the car on the right. I accelerate hard, and line up for a head-on collision. Suddenly, I’m thinking of Taryn lecturing me on physics. I forget what started the conversation, but we ended up talking about relative speeds. More accurately, I ended up listening to a short lesson about relative speeds. If I hit that cruiser, it won’t end well for either party. I clench my jaw. Maybe the cop realizes that too. I tighten my grip on the wheel.

“This isn’t a good idea, kid!”

“Since when do I ever have a good idea?” The words squeeze out between my teeth. “That cop in front of me probably has something to live for. He’ll back down.” I say this mostly to reassure myself. I don’t say it out loud, but I’m nervous that he’ll decide it’s worth his life to stop a terrorist. In truth, I’m becoming a health hazard. The longer this nonsense goes on, the more likely it is that someone is going to get killed. My knuckles go white on the steering wheel. Across from me, the cop blanches. He slams on the brakes. I shoot through the opening. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who believed I’d ram someone nose to nose.

Started work yesterday. It was fun. It promises to be fun. It even eases the expense of my drugs of choice. Don’t worry. I’m not going to poison myself.

I’m not going to offer any further insight into me at the moment.


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