Chapter 4The 98-Pound Curse

"Oh."

Silas looked at the finger.

"Hey, it's that girl from two nights ago."

He picked it up and played with it. "She was pretty, but she didn't have much cash. My dad likes to rob passengers, but that's boring. I like the art. I like the way a body comes apart."

He turned around and smiled at Mia. "Especially one as pretty as yours."

He kissed the severed finger, his eyes lecherous. "You're much prettier than she was."

I was shaking with rage and fear.

I knew this road. We were heading toward the rural outskirts. There was a three-way junction ahead. Two led back to the city; one led to the isolated farm country.

They’d take the isolated one.

The roads there were full of speed bumps because the locals were always trying to catch people speeding so they could "fine" them.

I felt my keys in my pocket. There was a small folding box-cutter on the keychain.

"Ryan, when he tries to kill me, just run," Mia whispered, crying. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

"Don't," I whispered back.

The driver saw us in the mirror and smirked.

"Mia," I whispered as low as possible. "Remember that game we played? The one with the rope and the knife?"

Mia froze, then her eyes widened. She understood.

We had played a survival game together online. We had won a match once by using a cord and a knife inside a vehicle.

As the city faded into farmlands, Mia asked, "Can we open a window? It's hot in here."

Silas growled, "You're about to be dead. You don't need air."

Mia took off her trench coat. It had a long, sturdy leather belt.

I gripped my box-cutter.

The car turned into the rural road. Silas started sharpening the blade.

I counted the distance. There was a steep hill coming up with five consecutive speed bumps at the bottom. The car would have to slow to 15 mph.

300 yards...

200 yards...

100 yards...

50...

30...

"MIA!"

Mia lunged. She looped the leather belt around the driver's neck from behind, braced her feet against the seat, and pulled with everything she had.

"Shit!" Silas yelled, swinging the cleaver at Mia's head.

I threw myself over her, grabbing his arm. Silas was a heavyweight boxer; he was pure power. Even with my adrenaline pumping, I was losing. My strength was failing...

"Watch out!"

Mia ducked. The cleaver smashed through the side window. The driver was gasping, clawing at the belt. The car swerved wildly, the horn blaring.

Silas pulled the knife back to swing at me. I took the box-cutter and stabbed it repeatedly into his arm.

He let out a roar of pain. The driver, turning purple, lost control. The car hit the speed bumps, flipped twice, and crashed into a muddy cornfield.

"Mia! You okay?"

I was dizzy, my head ringing.

But the door, damaged from the flip, popped open.