Credence

Snow falls, fat flakes hitting my hair and bare shoulders, and I rip off my heels, jogging across the frigid, wet pavement to the truck.

Climbing in, I toss my heels in the back and start the engine.

I shiver, turning on the heaters and starting the wipers. Thankfully, the windows haven’t frosted yet, and I blow into my hands, trying to warm them up. I left my shawl inside, dammit.

The door to the bar flies open, and I look over, seeing Kaleb charge out, followed quickly by his father and brother. He heads around the truck for the driver’s side.

“Are you okay?” I ask as he opens the door.

But I know I won’t get an answer.

Pushing me over, he climbs in and shifts the truck into first as Jake takes the seat next to me and Noah climbs in the back.

I take the hint and scurry into the back seat to join him.

The bar door opens again and guys rush out, Terrance leading the pack, and I barely have time to look at Kaleb before he shifts gears again, putting the truck in reverse this time.

“Aw, fuck,” Noah says like he knows what Kaleb is about to do, and I whip my head around just as Kaleb slams on the gas. Our truck heads straight for a row of bikes, and I grapple for the handle above my door, taking hold of it and squeezing my eyes shut as the truck drives right over the dirt bikes.

“Kaleb!” Jake yells.

But it’s too late. We rock side to side, crawling over the motorcycles, and my heart lodges in my throat, but I almost want to laugh, too.

They deserved that.

“You motherfucker!” I hear someone yell.

And then a loud bark. “You’re dead!”

I look out the window and suddenly see two cops across the street, dressed in heavy jackets and winter hats as they step out of their cruiser.

“Oh, shit,” I gasp.

“Kaleb, go now!” Noah yells, seeing what I’m seeing.

He doesn’t hesitate further. Before the officers can stop him, Kaleb hits the gas, speeds off, and I look out the rear window, seeing the guys scramble for their bikes and the cops jump back in their car.

The truck races through the night, the snow whipping across the windshield in the black night, and I slip my shoes back on.

Kaleb kills the headlights, as if the whole town doesn’t know where we’re going, and I peer over the back of his seat, trying to see what he sees in his rearview mirror.

Lights trail us far back, and I hear the tires spin underneath us as the slick snow turns to ice. Jake flips on the defroster.

“Are they really chasing us in this weather?” I blurt out, looking behind me. “Maybe you should stop.”

They’re on dirt bikes. It’s freezing. This could get a lot worse than it already has if there’s an accident.

No one hears me, though.

“Slow down,” Jake orders him.

But Kaleb doesn’t listen. The truck fishtails, and Kaleb jerks the wheel to the shoulder, using the gravel for traction as he gets us farther and farther up into the mountains.

The bikes gain on us, since they’re carrying less weight, but then I see a couple of headlights drop as if the bikes slid. The others follow Kaleb’s example and use the shoulder as the cops’ red and blue lights flash behind.

No, no, no… This is bad.

We keep going, and I notice less lights behind us now as some of the racers giving chase decide to give up in the thick snowfall and save it for another day.