I glanced down at my speedometer. Forty-five miles an hour? It had to be busted. Usain Bolt never broke thirty.
Wind whistled through the broken passenger window, and glass tinkled as it blew around the seats. I checked the rearview again.
The speed freaks had nearly closed the distance. The man suddenly disappeared, and something landed on the roof with a resounding thump. I jerked, swerving across the centerline, and my heart clenched. This is not happening, this is not happening, this is—
A hand—with claws—scraped the windshield above me, and I screamed.
My reflexes kicked in, and I slammed on my brakes. The car shuddered and swerved, and I fought the wheel to maintain control.
The thing on the roof launched forward onto the road. A second later, the running woman slammed full speed into the back of the car and flipped over the front.
My seatbelt dug into my ribs as the car came to a screeching halt. The body of the woman hit the pavement and bounced a couple times before rolling into a ditch, while the man’s carcass skidded to a stop in the middle of the road.
No, no, no. It wasn’t possible. There was no way that two clawed people just ran my car down on the open road.
My vision blurred as I started hyperventilating.
Ten feet ahead, the man pushed himself onto all fours. His arms bent and buckled, like the broken bones were snapping back into place. My chest heaved, but I couldn’t seem to get any air.
He stood and faced me, raising a hand to block out the Gran Fury’s headlights. His crimson eyes practically glowed in the high beams. When he glanced at the woman in the ditch, he let out a heart-wrenching howl like a goddamned animal.
Then he charged.
My mind spun, and I hit the gas. The car rocketed forward and jerked as I ran the bastard down. Once I bumped over him, I gasped and slammed on the brakes.
Everything was still. I could barely make out the moonlit form of his crumpled body in the rearview.
Had I just murdered someone with my car?
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Apparently not. As the unkillable psycho rose, I could almost hear the echoes of his bones snapping back into place through the broken window. My chest seized as he turned toward me with those glowing eyes.
These were freaking monsters.
Adrenaline dumped into my veins. I threw the car into reverse and gunned it. His body disappeared beneath my bumper and skidded as he was dragged along beneath the undercarriage. I popped the Fury back into drive and rolled over him again.
Twice.
When I checked the mirror, his body lay motionless in the road.
Where was the damned woman? She wasn’t in the ditch.
I let my survival instinct slip into the driver’s seat, and I pushed the gas to the floor with only one thought in my mind: Get the hell out of here.
2
Savannah
My brain fog cleared after a minute, and I pulled over to the side of the road. Hands shaking, I grabbed my phone and dialed 911. I tried to explain things to the dispatcher but probably sounded like a lunatic.
Stay calm, Savannah.
I dusted the broken glass off my lap and kept checking the rearview mirror for movement along the moonlit road while I waited for the cops. Nothing seemed to be following me, but I kept the car idling and the headlights on, just in case.
After five minutes, a set of flashing lights pulled up behind me. A car door slammed, and a moment later, Sheriff Kepler tapped on my window. “Savannah? Is that you? Are you okay? Roll down your window.”
I complied in a daze. “Hey, Sheriff Kep.”