Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I nodded weakly and leaned my head back against the headrest, trying to force the panic down inside me. All I could think about was that little red light under my seat, and what it meant. A device primed to kill me, just waiting for one signal. What happens when the battery runs out? What if it shorts? What if there’s someone watching with a remote control and they can just press a button and— I started to huff air through my nostrils, faster and faster—
“Hey!” said Radimir sharply.
I looked around at him.
“It’s going to be okay.” He pressed his palm harder against the glass. “I’m right here with you.”
I nodded and tried to breathe. The minutes ticked past like centuries. I’d never gone so long without moving. With all the doors and windows closed, the air in the cabin was getting stale. I knew that there were vents but it felt like I was running out. And the walls of the car seemed to be creeping closer and closer, squeezing me into a tiny box. The fear took hold. Oh Jesus Jesus God, I don’t want to die—
“Talk to me,” said Radimir. “Tell me about…” —he thought desperately—“books.”
“Books?” I tried to laugh but the fear made it come out kind of hysterical.
“What happened to Kurt the cowboy? Did he get together with Christa?”
I stared. I recognized the names, but they made no sense, coming out of a Russian mobster’s mouth. The book he read to me when I was ill. “You still remember that?!”
He nodded. “I never got to find out what happened.”
My mouth opened and closed a few times. “I never did either. I stopped reading it, after I got well.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“I loved it, but…it wasn’t the same without you reading it.”
There were people listening, police and the bomb squad and his brothers, but he didn’t seem to care. “You hold on,” he told me, “And I’ll read the rest of that book to you.” His eyes...were his eyes glistening? “Any book. I’ll read all the books. Whenever you like.”
I nodded, feeling my own eyes go hot. We sat there staring into each other’s eyes...
“Hey,” said a female voice right in front of me.
I jerked: but luckily went back into my seat. I panted, blinked...and focused on the woman who was standing in front of the car.
She was about my age, with blonde hair tied in a ponytail. She was wearing a death metal t-shirt, black jeans and a bright orange puffa jacket. And now she was...climbing onto the hood. “Don’t!” I yelled, panicked, but she ignored me, too focused on balancing.
“Goddammit, Boxley, get off of there!” yelled the chief of the bomb squad. “What if it’s hooked up to the suspension?!”
Radimir and I stared at the two of them, then looked at each other. This is the specialist?!
“It’s not hooked up to the suspension,” mumbled Boxley. “Because that would be stupid. It would make no sense to hook it to the suspension and the seat sensors.” She stood up on the hood and then stepped onto the roof. Oh my God she’s crazy. “I’m going to need an angle grinder.”
“You can’t cut through the roof!” roared the chief, going red in the face. “Get off of there!”
“The doors and the windows all have sensors, so the car knows if they’re open,” said Boxley calmly. “But the car won’t know if there’s a hole in its roof. I looked at the schematics on my way over. Right here,” —she rapped her knuckles on the roof, over the backseat, “there are no wires at all. Just metal.”
The chief’s face slowly returned to its normal color. He looked at the car, thinking. “Okay,” he muttered. “Okay, you might be onto something.” He turned and yelled. “Someone get me the angle grinder!”
A few moments later, I was hunkered down in my seat, trying not to flinch as the metal blade of an angle grinder sliced open the roof. The noise was terrifying, and sparks kept arcing down into the car. I winced as one of them singed my white jacket. Sorry, Rachel. Radimir was wincing and cursing, too, worried about my safety. The only person who seemed completely relaxed was Boxley.
Boxley finished cutting and suddenly the car was filled with light as she lifted a rectangle of metal away. It was like she’d cut a sunroof over the back seat. The next thing I knew, she’d shed her puffa jacket and was slithering headfirst onto the backseat. She slid between the front seats and then into my footwell, squeezing herself in by my feet. Fortunately, Radimir is much taller than me and the seat was adjusted for him. She didn’t seem afraid at all, despite putting herself within inches of a bomb. The woman was beyond brave.
“Open your legs, please?” she asked. She reminded me of my friend Luna, quiet and studious: she sounded like she should have glasses to push up her nose. I shuffled my feet apart. She clamped a flashlight in her teeth and peered between my ankles. There was silence for a few minutes. “Okay,” she said at last.