Good As Dead

Chapter Fifteen

Before we even reach the bodies, lines of ink slip through the car, scanning the surrounding area in a series of pulsing waves. This close, I can see that the abandoned van is one of the community shuttles, the Mercywing insignia painted on the side of one flung-open door.

"No heartbeats," says Gideon, but slows down anyway, probably to figure out a way around the bodies.

"Was it a wreck?" I say, already knowing the answer bone-deep.

Another flicker of ink, and then he quietly says, "No. The bodies were torn apart in different ways."

Christ, please let them have died before being ripped to pieces like that. I can't even tell how many of them there were. When my stomach starts churning, my gaze darts back to the sky. The sun is long gone behind the horizon, leaving only reflected light on some low-hanging clouds, brilliant orange against the looming blue-black of night.

As if sensing my thoughts, Gideon says, "We shouldn't stop. These bodies are..." He reads a few lines of code from the ink, and new tension enters his voice. "Minutes old. And the position of the vehicle suggests the driver was traveling in the same direction we are."

"You think he's waiting for us?" I glance at the sky again, taking in the sight of clouds already gone dark, and then nod reluctantly. I hate that we can't stop. I wouldn't want my body lying there for the vultures to pick at.

As Gideon guides the car around, a flash of white catches my eye, and despite myself, I glance toward it. It's a sports jersey, the letters clear despite the blood splattered across them.

The Dinas Devils, #52.

My words come out as a croak. "I know her."

"Phoenix?" Gideon's voice turns sharp as I lunge halfway through the open window, twisting to look back as something seethes up through my veins, pooling against the silver necklace ineffectually.

"That's Pilar! I recognize her shirt. Oh my god, that fuck." Still staring, I notice a flicker of movement in the pulled-over shuttle. The door to the baggage space between the front and back wheels pops open, but Gideon drives so fast that darkness swallows up the entire shuttle before I can see who gets out. "Wait, someone's still alive back there; I saw them crawling out of the baggage area."

"Alive without a heartbeat?"

There's a moment of silence, and then without a word I duck back inside as Gideon speeds up. I watch the side mirror, heart racing as headlights appear. "They're following us."

It doesn't take long for the headlights to grow closer. The shuttle is the type of heavily-built vehicle made to last; I don't want to think about the type of damage it could do to a smaller car like this.

"Gideon, I don't doubt your manhood or anything, but um, how good is your car?"

"It's not mine; it's stolen property. I didn't dare raise early suspicion from INKtech by taking one of their vehicles on an unauthorized trip again." His fingers tap the steering wheel as he glances in the rearview mirror.

"Okay, not really my point." The headlights are so close the beams now shine into our car.

I slam back into the seat as we suddenly lurch ahead, the engine grinding in response to Gideon flooring the gas pedal. It's making a lot more noise now, but the headlights grow even closer. "Not as good as I'd hoped," he admits.

Before I can respond, the shuttle rams us in a shriek of metal. The take-out box of food goes spilling by my feet as Gideon steers us straight. The second jolt almost drives us off the road, and Gideon snarls something, ink flaring. The road is a dark strip ahead of us, and as our headlights bob, I can see outcroppings of rock that flank us here and there. We're in real danger just from crashing. The next time the shuttle rams us, I yelp, remembering how Melanie was found in her crushed car. "This isn't working!"