Darius has been in the back seat of many Zalmon cars. He has casually met the eyes of many Zalmon drivers. But he senses there is something different going on right now. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but he’s taken aback by a spark in Noah’s eyes, and he feels the fire in Noah’s exhale.
“Talk to me, kid.” Noah’s voice slices through the thick air between them. “You’re safe.”
Safe? The empty word mocks Darius, who just glares out the window. Who does this guy think he is?
“I know that look, kid. I know you know something.”
Darius hesitates before he blurts, “My sister’s … my little sister … there’s just … something wrong with my sister.” Sweat pools in his palms.
“That’s it?” Noah asks. “There’s just something wrong with your sister?”
Darius smashes his hands into the upholstery of the passenger seat, sending it flying forward.
“What do you mean that’s it?” he yells. “Isn’t that enough?”
Noah hides a smirk.
“What do you want?” Darius loses it. “You want her dead like everyone else?”
Noah turns left sharply, flinging Darius to the other side of the car and cutting his head on the half-open window.
“What are you doing?” Darius shouts.
Noah ignores him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Still nothing.
“This is not the way to my house, asshole.” Darius tries to open his door, despite the neck-breaking speed, but the childproof lock imprisons him.
Noah pounds the gas pedal to the metal. The car burns rubber, expelling clouds of smoke into the Zalmon air.
“I said, where are you going?!”
“Just trust me, kid.” Noah concentrates like a jacked-up mouse in a maze, intent on the cheese.
“Trust you?” Darius laughs. “I don’t even know you.”
Noah musters more speed and whips past the last row of Zalmon’s houses.
Darius kicks at his door handle. “You’re crazy! Let me out of here before I rip your fucking face off.”
Their car flies past billboards of tight-knit nuclear families, feet cushioned in plastic grass, homes enclosed by white picket fences. Darius jerks his head to watch the signs of civilization diminish out the back window.
Noah laughs through one last wild turn, then his car flies over the hump of the paved road’s end and halts on a dirt road.
Darius has never been here before, but he’s heard of this spot. It’s the complete opposite point of the Zalmon border, known as the Edge of Town. It’s as boring as they all say. All Darius can see is a massive, thick forest. Darius and all Zalmon kids are taught, at a very young, impressionable age, that beyond the darkness of the forest is a deep, wide body of water where Leavers lose their lives to the vicious, engulfing waves.
Noah does a three-point turn. Just as Darius works up the nerve to jump into the front seat and try the door, Noah pulls the gear shift down, cranks the gas, and guns it directly into the sprawling trees.
“Please stop!” Darius yells.
Baby trees bend and bow in sync with the racing car. Branches thrash at the windows. Leaves are long streaks of blurred green.
Noah doesn’t let up. He speeds right on through until he reaches a hidden, dark mud tunnel and rips the vehicle masterfully into the tight opening. Noah accelerates, then cuts the lights to maneuver the rest of the way by memory.
Darius jumps back into the back seat and heaves.
A small light shines in the distance, casting a soft glow onto Noah’s closed eyelids.
From behind, Darius reaches his hands up and wraps them around Noah’s throat.
Noah opens his eyes and slams on the brakes. The car swerves, just missing the sides of the tunnel. Darius squeezes Noah’s throat harder. The car skids to the other side of the tunnel, scrapes it, and spins around. Darius’s hands close tighter yet. Noah slowly loses consciousness as the light at the end of the tunnel draws nearer. The car slows to a stop just as Noah’s breathing does.
The driver’s side door flies open at the hands of Aysa Relenday, a man in his mid-forties with deceptive strength. Despite Darius’s constrictive hold on Noah’s throat, the calm, tattooed, and goateed Aysa frees Noah with one knockout punch to Darius’s chin.