Part 36 (1/2)

Jill regained consciousness in the backseat, slumped against the corner of the car, her head lying on its right side. She tried to understand what was going on. The two men in the front seat weren't FBI agents, they were killers. They were going to kill her and Victoria. Rahul was on the plane to Mumbai. He might already be dead.

Jill fought to suppress a rising terror. Her face and head throbbed with pain. Her nose was bleeding. She heard a soft bubbling sound, her own blood leaking from her nose. Her right eye felt loose, warm, and wet, so she knew her orbital bone had been hit, maybe broken. She heard the sound of quiet whimpering.

Victoria.

Jill felt the sensation of movement, a slight jostling. There were no other car sounds, no pa.s.sing trucks. The rate of speed was low, maybe fifty miles an hour. There was only road noise, and weeping.

Jill lay still, forcing herself to think, and function. If her right orbital had been hit, her eye would look like a sunken and b.l.o.o.d.y mess. n.o.body could tell it was open. The two men would think she was still unconscious.

She kept her left eye closed and looked around through her right eye. It wasn't easy but she could see well enough. Victoria was hunched over, crying and shaking. Her hands covered her face. Blood dripped through her slender fingers. Her phone and purse were gone. Her blusher and hairbrush lay scattered on the backseat.

”I gotta take a leak,” said one of the men, up front, and from the direction of the sound, Jill guessed it was the driver talking, Donator or whatever his real name was. He must have shown ID to somebody at the hospital, but it must have been fake. Jill hadn't even thought to ask, she'd been so preoccupied.

”Make it fast,” said Cohz, or whoever. ”This chick is making me mental, with the boohooing.”

”So pop her again.”

”It just makes it worse. Hurry up.”

Jill felt the car slow down. She couldn't let anything happen to Victoria. She felt a rush of love and terror, in almost equal measure.

The car pulled over to the side of the road, and Jill could see thick woods. No houses. No people. No cars. No help. She and Victoria wouldn't get far if they ran for it. The men had to be armed, and there were two of them. It was late afternoon, still daylight. One man would go after her, and the other would hunt Victoria down.

”Be right back,” Donator said, braking. There was movement on the floor of the car as it stopped. Something rolled out from underneath the seat, an orange color that caught Jill's attention.

Victoria's EpiPen.

Jill knew it was a syringe of epinephrine, or adrenaline. In case of an allergic reaction, it would restore breathing, but injected into the muscle of a healthy person, it would have almost no effect. It would only increase the heart rate, cause nausea and tremors. It would have no effect in a vein.

Unless it was the right vein.

Jill didn't know if she could do it, but she and Victoria were dead, otherwise. She heard the sound of the car door opening, then a beeping that signaled that it had been left open. She couldn't see the driver, but she heard the crunch of his foot on the gravel road, then his footfalls disappeared.

She imagined him walking up a distance, then turning away from the car. His back would be to the roadside. She'd have to wait until then. It would buy them extra seconds.

It would be her only chance. Their only chance.

She stilled her heart, listening. Counting.

One, two, three.

Go.

Chapter Sixty-one.

Jill swooped down, grabbed the EpiPen, tore the cap off with her teeth, then lunged forward and plunged its long, thick needle directly into Cohz's carotid.

His eyes flew open. His lips parted in shock and pain.

Jill clamped her other hand over his mouth to stifle his cry. The EpiPen wouldn't kill him, but it would immobilize him long enough to give them a head start. ”Go, go, go!” she hissed to Victoria.

”Oh!” Victoria sat upright, teary and shaken, then reached for the door handle and shoved the door open with Jill right behind her, pus.h.i.+ng her outside.

”Run to the woods! Go!”

”Help!” Victoria screamed, but Jill didn't have time to tell her that screaming was the worst thing to do.

”No, stop!” Donator shouted, from up the road, behind them.

Jill grabbed Victoria's hand. They crashed together into the woods, running as fast as they could. They tore through the trees, tall and thick. They ducked low branches. The trees grew denser. There was no room to run in between. They let go of each other's hands, running together, racing with all their might. Bark sc.r.a.ped their legs. Their hair caught on branches. They leapt over dead limbs. The temperature cooled. The sun vanished.

Victoria panted as she ran, her arms pumping. Her legs churned. Her jacket caught on something and ripped.

Jill's breath went ragged. She put up her hands to s.h.i.+eld her face. She was too adrenalized to feel pain. They twisted and threaded through the trees, trying not to trip on vines and undergrowth. Twigs, stones, and dry leaves covered the ground. There was no path or trail. No room to run side-by-side.

”HELP, HELP!” Victoria screamed.

Crak! a gunshot fired, close behind them.

Jill ducked, on the run. A jolt of sheer horror shot through her system. Donator was after them now. She knew what she had to do. They couldn't keep this up. She turned to Victoria.

”Go left,” Jill shouted, gasping for breath. ”You go left, I go right.”

”What? Why?”

”Go and shut up. I'll draw him.”

”No!” Victoria reached for her, but Jill slapped her hand away, though it killed her to do it.

”Listen to me! Go left! Do it! We have to separate! We can't both make it!”

”No, I'm not going!” Victoria met Jill's eye for a split second, panting hard, tears streaming down her cheeks, as heartbroken as she was terrified, and in that instant, Jill could see that they had become mother and daughter, once again.

”I love you, honey. Now, go! Get help!”

”No!”

”Yes!” Jill turned right and bolted away from her, screaming at the top of her lungs, to draw Donator. ”Help! Help, police! Somebody!”