These fuckers fired on a semi-busy fucking street, no doubt causing more chaos than was necessary. They want us dead, but that doesn't mean innocent people need to die, too.
“Shit, we’ve got two more on our ass, Dom.”
He heaves the gun into my chest and takes the steering wheel from me. “Do you worst, kid. I’m going to try to shake them.”
Because this wasn’t the plan, not here, at least. We were going to guide them where we wanted them and attack where we knew we had an advantage. Not go to war in the middle of a fucking road.
One of the vehicles, an SUV with blacked-out windows, approaches from the passenger side of our van. I roll my window down and shove the AK out, firing it directly at the hood. Bullets ricochet off and do minimal damage.
"Bulletproof," I yell at Dom overtop the loud road noise.
“Aim at the tires.”
"I'm fucking trying." I pull the trigger, the shots reverberating through my chest and body. The noise blares in my ears. The shell cases buzz past my face and singe the skin of my cheek. "Yes!" I call out when I finally fucking land one in their tire. "Take that you fucking prick."
But when a bullet hits me, I know I’ve celebrated all too soon.
I fall into the van, my hand clutching my arm. I pull it off and glance down at the blood gushing out of the wound. “God damn it.”
Dominic flits his attention toward me. “Did it go through or is it still in there?”
“I don’t fucking know, but it hurts like hell.”
"We've got to stop the bleeding." Dominic presses on the gas but uses his knee to steer while he shifts his attention to me. "Your shirt, take it off."
I drag the thing over my head, barely able to get it around my injured arm. “Here.”
Dominic rips the fabric with ease, his hands going back to the steering wheel for a second to navigate us around traffic and then onto me. "Hold this." He circles the wound with the remains of my shirt and ties it tight, applying enough pressure to hopefully stop the excessive bleeding. "There, that'll have to do until I can get you out of here."
“No,” I tell him through gritted teeth. I latch onto the AK and stare right at him. “We’ve started this, now we end it. There’s no turning back now.”
“You’re one crazy son of a bitch.”
“Thanks.”
“What do we have? Two on our tail still?”
I glance in the mirror and assess the situation. “Yeah, the one I hit isn’t back there anymore.”
“Hang on, I’m going to do something stupid.” Dominic slows down, letting the cars gain on us. At the last second, he shoves his foot onto the throttle and goes left of center into oncoming traffic.
“Jesus Christ,” I call out while bracing myself on the door.
"I told you to hold on." Dominic keeps checking his rearview and darts around the oncoming traffic.
Horns blare, people slam on their brakes, and some cars crash into each other to avoid us.
He continues going the wrong way, his hands gripping the steering wheel like his life depends on it. Because well, it sort of does.
I push away the pain and focus on staying alive. I knew this would be dangerous, but this would be a hell of a lot easier if I weren’t gushing from a gunshot wound. We haven’t even gotten to the fun part, and I’m already down for the count. I refuse to let a little blood stop me from following through with our plan. I’ve been through and survived worse.
Dom cuts down an alley, blaring his horn at the people that are walking in our path of destruction.
They jump out of the way in the nick of time.
We cut through another side street, demolish the mirror of a car as we pass, and continue on.
“They still on us?” Dom asks as he navigates this ride through hell.