Drive

by Philip John Walibba



  Drive

  (The Driver Series #1)

  by

  H.S. Stone

  Published by H.S. Stone

  Copyright © 2013 H.S. Stone

  * * * * *

  License Notes

  The tall gates of Angel City keep the morning sun out of my eyes. Despite the shadows, I adjust the sunglasses sitting on the bridge of my nose, but I can’t find a completely comfortable position for them.

  Sitting in the bucket seat, my heart beats rapidly in anticipation, the rush of blood in my ears threatening to drown out the thrum of the engine. My hands grip the steering wheel tighter.

  To my right, Shaun asks, “Nervous?” His voice is calm, and not just because this is his twelfth run, and I’m returning from my first. “First time?” The question is a joke between us.

  “No, I’ve been nervous lots of times.”

  He chuckles. “It’s okay, Claire. It’ll be just like when we came down here. Easy as pie.”

  “Easy as pie,” I repeat to myself.

  Yesterday’s trip from San Jose to Angel City was indeed easier than I thought. We made it in less than four hours, and aside from some trouble in the mountains north of our destination, we didn’t encounter any Outsiders.

  A guard at the gate yells, “Clear!” It’s our signal to move. I press my foot down on the gas pedal, listening to the engine roar. The sound calms my nerves, as it’s always done. That’s why I became a Driver, and I have no intention of giving up my calling after just one run.

  I glance back at the containers of medicine secured in the seats behind me. They remind me of why I volunteered for this particular run. Without receiving the medicine soon, Charlie, my sick brother, won’t last long, and neither will the hundreds of others in San Jose who have caught the Rain Sickness. Thanks to the pharms of Angel City, the only source of the medicine on the West Coast, we have enough in the car to last us until the end of the year.

  Shaun sets his rifle between our seats and grabs a pistol from the floor in front of him. He sets the gun on his lap. A leisurely smile adorns his face, incongruous with his role during our mission. I half admire him and half resent him for his relaxed manner.

  The metal gates slowly creak open to reveal an asphalt highway in front of us. In the distance, I see an old sign designating the road as Interstate 5. The sun shines through the gap in Angel City’s protective walls, but it is high enough in the sky not to interfere with my vision.

  I nudge my sunglasses one more time, shift the car into gear, and wave at the guard without turning my head as I rocket past the gates. I don’t need to look behind me to know that the gates close as soon as we leave.

  * * *

  The first few minutes of our northward journey fly by uneventfully. The road is empty and quiet. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Shaun scanning our surroundings. All I see is asphalt and the ruins of buildings that once belonged to the second largest city in the country, but Shaun sees more than I do.

  He is a Protector, and he hasn’t let the Drivers of his first eleven runs suffer as much as a scratch. Although Shaun is only a few months older than me, just barely eighteen, his experience makes him a veteran.

  We soon start the upward climb into the Santa Susana Mountains. On the way to Angel City, the Outsiders used us for target practice in the mountains. Not only do the hills provide a good vantage point for them to shoot at us, but the incline and the winding roads force me to drive slower than I usually do. Fortunately, none of the bullets found their mark yesterday.

  This morning, I keep to my usual speed and route, staying in the center lane up the slope. Our windows are rolled down, and Shaun has his pistol aimed out of the passenger side.

  When we hear the first shot, he swivels his head and his gun in the direction of the sound. Another shot echoes across the hills, and sparks fly on the asphalt in front of the car. Shaun pulls the trigger twice. The sound of the wind rushing past our car muffles the boom of his shots.

  We both know that the odds of his hitting an Outsider are slim, but I’m also comforted by the knowledge that their chances of hitting us aren’t much higher. Driving through the mountains is more of a test of nerves than anything else, Shaun told me before we began our run.

  My nerves jump when a bullet strikes the car.

  “Don’t slow down!” Shaun orders, firing off another two shots, and I obey. My foot stays on the pedal, forcing the car to go as fast as it can on the mountain road.

  I hear the crack of another rifle from my side of the highway. Concrete chips fly off near the rear bumper. Shaun swings his arm inside the car and looks for the shooter on our left. He waits for another shot, but it doesn’t come.

  The road flattens out, and I shift into a higher gear, accelerating past the danger zone.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “I’m fine. You?”

  “No worries on my end.” Shaun retrieves his box of ammunition from under his seat and reloads the handgun. Then he looks out of his window at the damage we sustained. “Bullet hole in the trunk. Nothing serious.”

  I’m relieved that we stored the medicine in the back seat instead of the trunk. When I turn my head to confirm that the cases are undamaged, I see Shaun looking out of the window, the wind whipping through his hair like he’s a dog on a joy ride. I can’t believe how calm he is. My heart is still racing from our encounter, and my hands tremble as they grip the steering wheel.

  Shaun must see my anxiety because he tells me, “You can ease off the gas a little now. Take a few deep breaths and regain your composure. It won’t do us any good if we crash.” He says the last sentence with a laugh as if it’s funny.

  I inhale deeply as he suggests and exhale through my mouth. After repeating the exercise three more times, calmness infiltrates my adrenalin-filled body. I flex the fingers of each hand in turn and feel blood returning to my extremities.

  Shaun adds, “If we’re lucky, that’s the last time we’ll run into the Outsiders before we get home.”

  I should know what to expect. I’m rarely lucky.

  * * *

  For the next two hundred miles, Shaun and I share details about our lives. Unlike yesterday’s drive, when we were still trying to feel each other out and talked mostly of our mission, this morning’s topic turns more personal.

  I tell him about Charlie, the reason why I asked to go on this run, and my concerns over his health. Ever since he was a baby, Charlie was prone to sickness, and I fear that if I don’t return with the medicine soon, the Rain Sickness will be the death of him.

  Shaun listens and asks questions that show he cares. It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone listen to me like he does. Then I think harder and come to the conclusion that, aside from Charlie and my parents, no one has listened to me as intently as Shaun.

  When it’s my turn to ask him if he has any siblings, Shaun grows quiet. I glance at him and see his fingers rub against a ring on his right hand.

  “I’m sorry if I said something wrong,” I start.

  “No, it’s not your fault,” he says. “I had an older sister. Her name was Wendy.”

  Had? Was? I don’t like where his story is headed.

  “This ring belonged to her,” he says, holding up his hand. “She was a Driver like you, one of the best, from what I heard. I was only eleven when she went on a run and never came back. Neither did her Protector.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “Outsiders, I guess. No one knows for certain. It couldn’t have been a problem with the car because Wendy could handle anything that came up with cars. They must’ve been ambushed by Outsiders.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I give him a lame “I’m so sorry, Shaun.”

  “It’s okay. Like I said, it’s not your
fault.” After a pause, he adds, “As my Driver, you deserve to know.”

  “Is that why you became a Protector?” My question slips out before I can think of how it must hurt him to hear it.

  “Yeah. It’s not that I blame Wendy’s Protector, but I always thought that if her Protector was good enough, she would’ve returned. I want to make sure no other Drivers suffer her fate.”

  What he means is that no other Drivers under his protection will. We’ve lost several Drivers in the seven years since his sister’s disappearance, but none who rode with Shaun.

  “You’re the best Protector I know.” And since I know only a handful, it’s the truth.

  * * *

  Less than an hour from San Jose, the sky darkens and raindrops soak the car. It’s a Northern California storm, so while it isn’t severe, the wet roads prompt me to slow down. Adding to the rain, we leave Interstate 5 to journey westward on Highway 152, so we travel even slower than before.

  To call 152 a highway is generous because the narrow road is wide enough to hold only one lane each way, and the wilderness that has recaptured much of our state in the past decades leaves only a narrow path that is only slightly wider than our car. The growth on the sides of the highway is short, but whenever I run over it, the car jolts and slips. It takes all of my focus to stay in the center of the road.

  Although it is just past noon, the thick gray clouds block out the sun. I nearly swerve off the road at a turn.

  Shaun asks, “Do you need to turn on the headlights, Claire?”

  “Do you think it’s safe?” The last thing I want to do is advertise our presence to the Outsiders.

  “Safer than if we fly off the road because you can’t see,” he replies casually.

  I turn the knob that activates the headlights. The instant increase in visibility comforts me, validating that I made the right decision. For a moment, I’m tempted to speed up, but then I remember that the darkness isn’t the only reason I had slowed down.

  The road straightens out to a long stretch of easier driving. Just as I think I’ve licked the last hurdle, Shaun calls out, “There’s someone behind us.”

  I steal a glance in the rearview mirror. The vehicle doesn’t have its headlights on, and it’s difficult to make out its outline in the rain, but I clearly see it there behind us. Outsiders.

  “I shouldn’t have turned on the headlights,” I say.

  “No, it was already on your tail before you turned on the lights.”

  “You saw it? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

  “I wasn’t sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me,” Shaun answers. “Now that it’s closer, I thought I’d warn you.” He flashes me a smile as if we’re engaged in a game rather than a life threatening situation.

  I press down on the pedal, urging the engine to push us ahead of the car on our tail. The straight road gives me courage to increase our pace. Another peek through the mirror tells me that I’ve added some distance between us.

  A turn up ahead slows me down briefly, but I pick up speed when the road straightens out again. It’s difficult to determine, but I think the car behind us has fallen behind even more.

  In the distance, a dot of brilliance shines in our direction. It’s another car. The Outsiders have us trapped between them.

  “Slow down,” Shaun says.

  “Slow down?”

  “Yeah, let the car behind us catch up.”

  He’s the Protector, so I don’t question him, letting go of the pedal and leaning forward from the deceleration. Our pursuer quickly gains on us. Its headlights turn on, twin eyes of light that fix on its prey.

  Shaun rolls down his window and turns in his seat to face the rear. In his left hand, his gun fires once, twice. The Outsider’s car swerves to the side, running off the road and slowing to a stop in the grass. Behind where it was, I see another car approaching in its place.

  “Hmm, I wasn’t expecting a second car behind us. How are your off-road skills?” he asks.

  As calmly as I can, I reply, “They’re decent, but it’s been a while.”

  “I’m sure it’ll all come back to you.” He gives me that calm, confident smile again. “Let’s keep going straight ahead for now. And faster.”

  I accelerate forward. “When do we get off the road?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  I keep my attention on the road ahead, my arms ready to turn the steering wheel at a split second’s notice. As we near the headlights facing us, I see that there are two cars side by side blocking our path.

  I don’t realize they’re firing at us until a bullet goes through the windshield between Shaun and me. I yelp but hold on firmly to the steering wheel.

  “Make a sharp left on three, two, one!”

  I twist the wheel to the left without slowing down. We jump off the asphalt into a tangle of weeds. The centrifugal force pulls my seatbelt against my chest, and I’m surprised that Shaun has the balance and the steady nerves to fire off three shots at the Outsiders.

  Our car bumps wildly across the field. I gradually pull to the right to bypass the Outsiders’ blockade.

  Keeping my eye on the terrain, I ask, “How many cars are there?”

  “Just the two in front of us and one behind.”

  I see the car behind us leave the road to continue its pursuit, but the two cars that faced us take longer to turn around.

  “It should be safe to return to the road,” Shaun says.

  I happily oblige. While driving across rocks and grass isn’t very challenging, our car isn’t equipped for off-road travel. From the way our pursuer slowly gains, I’m guessing that it is.

  With a violent shake, our car leaps back onto the pavement.

  My foot slams down on the pedal again, and we lurch forward. I can put some distance on the cars behind us while we’re on asphalt, but I don’t know if there’s another roadblock ahead.

  As the headlights of our pursuer diminish behind us, Shaun remarks, “Once they realize that they can’t catch us, they’ll stop chasing.”

  * * *

  Of course, with my luck, the Outsiders stay on our tail. Shaun confirms that all three cars are still behind us, although we have a safe lead on them for the time being.

  We’re just minutes away from San Jose’s gates, so I begin to hope that even with Outsiders following our car, we can make it home safely. The road widens once we connect with Highway 101, and I goad our car even faster despite the rain.

  Then, through the haze, I see the row of headlights facing us. Six cars of varying sizes block the highway, leaving no room to pass on the four lanes or the shoulders. Aside from stopping, my only option is to exit.

  Slowing down moderately, I hug the curve of the nearest off-ramp. It leads me to the abandoned streets on the outskirts of San Jose. I look to Shaun for directions, but he’s busy studying the buildings and intersections.

  When I see my nearest pursuer follow me off the highway, I turn left to lose the car. Three blocks later, I turn right.

  “Over there,” Shaun says, pointing to a four story building with a parking garage at street level. “Pull into the lot.”

  I take one last look in the rearview mirror. Satisfied that none of the Outsiders have located us yet, I drive through the entrance into the parking garage. The building is dark save for the light streaming through the opening where we entered. I see the outline of elevator doors in the rear, but I doubt the elevators themselves still work. There is another door to the side that leads to an alley. Two other cars are parked in the garage, leftovers from the days when the city thrived with people.

  Shaun echoes my thoughts. “Park between the two cars and turn off the engine.”

  Once the last chortle of the engine dies, the silence overwhelms me. I hear my heart beating through my shirt and wonder if Shaun can hear it too. I can’t help but look toward the garage’s entrance in fear that an Outsider has discovered our hiding place.

  To my surprise, Shaun opens h
is door. He tucks his gun behind his back.

  “Where are you going?” I whisper, more harshly than I expect.

  Instead of answering my question, he tells me, “Stay down and out of sight, but get ready to grab the medicine and run when I call for you.”

  Before I can respond, he closes the door behind him. I watch him scamper to the parking garage’s entrance, survey his surroundings for a second, and then disappear from view.

  I can’t believe he left me like that. He’s supposed to be my Protector. Protectors aren’t supposed to abandon their Drivers like Shaun just did. In my mind, I try to convince myself that he has a good reason for leaving me alone.

  The minutes crawl by. Although I keep my head down most of the time like Shaun asked me to, whenever I hear a sound, I poke over the edge of my seat and peer out of the garage. A car passes the entrance but doesn’t slow down. I hope the driver isn’t tracking Shaun. I have no idea where he is or when he’s coming back.

  Ten minutes pass, but it feels like hours to me. My mind weighs staying in the car against leaving to find my Protector. Each time my hand reaches for the door’s handle, however, I tell myself that looking for Shaun is a bad idea. Without knowing where to find him, I’ll only endanger my life and perhaps his if I leave. I also don’t want him to panic if he returns when I’m gone and finds me missing.

  Another car drives slowly past the entrance. It stops just outside the garage. I duck down and hold my breath. A moment later, the car turns into the alley next to the building. It’s only then that I realize that if the Outsiders find our car here, it doesn’t matter if I’m hiding inside or not. I’m doomed either way.

  I hear the roar of an engine, followed by what sounds like the scrape of metal against a hard surface. Footsteps soon follow, coming toward the garage. I lower myself as much as possible into my seat. The owner of the footsteps is running, and there is no doubt that the person is headed straight for me.

  Shaun’s rifle still lies between our seats. I pick it up and swing it toward the passenger window. My finger curls over the trigger, but my hands are shaking so badly that I don’t know if I can shoot straight.

  The footsteps are almost at the car. I suddenly sit upright and point the business end of the rifle at the Outsider. Except that it’s not an Outsider. It’s Shaun.