
Suddenly, Jody floored the dust-covered Charger, shooting ahead, changing lanes around a slow-moving truck.
"No!" Shane's voice was a strangled plea. "Don't go! Not again!"
Shane pushed the pedal all the way to the floor, but Alexa's Subaru was underpowered, winding up slowly like a twenty-year-old airraid siren, taking its time to reach full power, its thin whine lost behind the Charger's four-barrel roar. Finally, Shane was going almost a hundred, chasing the vanishing muscle car between semis and soccer moms, businessmen and airport taxis, weaving dangerously in and out amid a chorus of blaring horns and unheard curses.
The Charger was ahead, gaining ground, its loose but empty chrome license-plate holder winking morning sunlight back at him.
Suddenly, Jody cut off a Ryder van and the top-heavy rent-a-truck, with its inexperienced driver, started pinwheeling across all four lanes. In seconds, it was directly in front of the Subaru. Shane had a scary two seconds as he tried to avoid death at a hundred miles an hour. Alexa's car, broke loose, swapping ends. Then he was carouseling wildly down the freeway: the landscape strobing past his windshield-dangerous, disembodied glimpses of trees, guardrails, and concrete abutments. A kaleidoscope of images on spin cycle… Around and around the Subaru went, metal lint on the busy L. A. freeway, until he saw the end coming. A bridge abutment spun into view like a huge concrete iceberg.
