Need for Speed Page 15

  Julia froze. She was certain the jig was up. The trooper walked to the front door and held it open for her. She followed him, but just for one step. Then she turned around and bolted toward the back of the store, running as fast as she could.

  The trooper was stunned, but only for a moment. He took off after her in a snap, chasing her down a hallway.

  Outside, Tobey was hustling back to the Mustang. He was still trying to look inside the store, all the while listening to Julia on his phone.

  Her voice came on in a shrill whisper. “Tobey! There’s a cop in here!”

  “I know,” Tobey told her. “Where are you?”

  At that moment, Julia was running frantically down the hallway, the trooper right on her heels.

  The hallway ended at a staircase. Julia ran up the stairs, but the trooper was gaining on her.

  She reached the top of the stairs and ran through an open doorway, slamming the door behind her and locking it.

  “I’m upstairs now!” she yelled to Tobey over the phone. “I’m in a room! Like a storage room.”

  “Is there a window?” Tobey asked her quickly.

  Julia ran to the room’s only window. Suddenly the trooper was banging mightily on the locked door.

  “Yes, there’s a window,” she told Tobey. “But I’m on the second floor!”

  Tobey could hear the trooper yelling in the background, “I’m asking you to open this door, miss!”

  “Climb out the window,” Tobey urged Julia. “I’ll be there.”

  Julia never stopped moving. She climbed atop some boxes as quickly as she could, trying to get out the window.

  The trooper was pounding on the door with his billy club now. His voice was insistent.

  “Miss, you need to open this door, right now!”

  Then he clicked on his walkie-talkie.

  “This is Unit Seven Two,” he barked into it. “I’m at the truck stop on Eighty. Any units in the area? Over.”

  In this short amount of time, Julia had managed to crawl halfway out the window. With one last push, she popped onto the roof.

  But then she peeked over the edge and saw it was about a fifteen-foot drop to the ground.

  “Oh damn!” she growled to herself. “Damn, I don’t like this.”

  She looked in every direction—but Tobey was nowhere in sight.

  She began running along the roof, frantically looking down into the parking lot while yelling into her phone.

  “Tobey—come and get me!” she screamed. “I’m up on the roof!”

  An instant later, the Mustang appeared right below her.

  Tobey called out the car’s window, “You gotta jump. Let’s go!”

  But there was a problem.

  “I’m afraid of heights,” she yelled back down to him. “I can’t even bear to look down!”

  “It’s not that high!” he called back up to her. “Just jump!”

  “I can’t!” she bellowed back. “I’m terrified of heights.”

  Tobey got out of the Mustang and ran to a point right below Julia.

  “Sit on the edge!” he called up to her. “Hang your feet over. I’ll catch you.”

  But Julia was having none of that. She was stamping her feet in furious fear.

  “Shit . . . Shit . . . Shit!” she yelled, mad at herself and her phobia. But there was nowhere else she could go, nothing else she could do.

  So she finally crept to the edge of the roof and let her feet dangle over.

  “Now close your eyes and just jump!” Tobey yelled up to her. “On three . . . One . . .”

  Julia closed her eyes and jumped—a full two seconds too early. Tobey was not ready—but he caught her anyway. Absorbing the impact with his prison-built muscles, he spun them both against the car and then softly to the ground.

  Tobey recovered quickly, picked up Julia, and practically threw her into the Mustang. Then he jumped in and floored it. The Mustang rocketed away in a cloud of smoke and dust.

  By this time, the trooper had run out of the store. He was still barking into his walkie-talkie.

  “In pursuit of the silver Mustang!” he reported to his headquarters. “New York plates . . . Going back to my cruiser now!”

  The trooper jumped into his cruiser and fired up the engine. He put it in gear and punched the gas pedal. The car lurched forward—but only for a couple feet. Then it began bucking wildly from behind. Suddenly there was a great crash! The cruiser’s rear axle smashed into the asphalt while the rest of the car kept going. It finally ground to a halt after twenty feet or so.

  The trooper quickly recovered from the shock and looked in his rearview mirror. That’s when he realized the axle had been tethered with a thick chain to a large semitruck parked in front of the store.

  The trooper just shook his head. His car was toast, and he knew it.

  Then he heard another noise.

  He looked over at the pickup truck he’d seen before to see the huge, now-unchained dog barking at him maniacally.

  * * *

  Not a minute later, Tobey and Julia were roaring down the highway again. She kept looking in her side mirror, expecting to see police lights at any moment.

  Just seconds after their getaway, the iPad crackled to life. It contained a text from Monarch.

  It read, “The drivers’ meeting is at 8:00 p.m. at the Intercontinental Hotel in Frisco. Be there square or you will not get the actual location of the race.”

  Tobey looked over at Julia, who was still catching her breath from their escape. She had changed into clothes he was more used to—jeans and a T-shirt. But more important, he’d just seen a side of her that he never knew existed.

  He was wearing a wide smile. He was really beginning to respect her—and more.

  But she was still worried about the cop.

  “Where is he?” she asked Tobey, continuing to check in the mirrors.

  “He’s not coming,” he replied confidently.

  “Really?” she asked. It was almost like she didn’t want to believe it.

  “Trust me,” Tobey replied. “He’ll be stuck back there for a while.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked, needing confirmation.

  Tobey laughed to himself; one word came to mind: Chains . . .

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’m sure.”

  Suddenly, Joe Peck’s voice crackled through the Mustang.

  “Beauty?” he began. “I’m listening to the trooper chatter and it sounds like your princess got snagged.”

  “Yeah, it was rough back there,” Tobey replied with a smirk.

  “Well, we couldn’t have planned it any better,” Joe told him. “You’re solo now and lighter by 100 pounds.”

  Tobey looked at Julia.

  “Maybe 105 . . .” he told Joe. “Or more . . .”

  Julia whacked him good-naturedly.

  “I pity the cops who have to listen to her go on and on,” Tobey added. “That girl just does not shut up. Ever . . .”

  “I copy that, homeboy,” Joe replied.

  “I’m kidding,” Tobey finally revealed. “I still got her. It was like a scene from The Great Escape . . . over.”

  Joe immediately tried to redeem himself.

  “I’ve always liked you, Julia,” he said half seriously. “You know that.”

  “Thanks, Joe,” she said. “Over and out.”

  With that, Julia flipped a switch, effectively ending the conversation.

  “You were impressive back there,” Tobey told her, now that they were finally alone. “It makes me wonder if you could maybe drive for a few hours?”

  Julia nodded happily. “For sure!” she exclaimed. “But do you really think we should stop?”

  Tobey didn’t reply. Instead, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his lap. Then he put h
er hands on the steering wheel, and after enjoying her perfume a little more than he should have, slid over into the passenger’s seat.

  “The con is yours, my dear,” he told her. “And in case you forgot—we’re going to San Francisco.”

  She gave him a mock salute, still a little flustered that their bodies had been entangled for those quick few seconds. She had no complaints, though.

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” she said. “Next stop—Frisco!”

  Nineteen

  THE SUNRISE OVER the Utah mountains was like something from a postcard.

  Julia was still driving; Tobey had fallen asleep a long time ago. All was quiet inside the Mustang. No iPhone chat. No police scanner. No Monarch.

  Julia felt good—and was feeling fully confident behind the wheel of the supercar.

  Until disaster struck.

  One moment she was driving along in high-speed contentment; the next, the Mustang was hit violently from behind.

  The supercar went sideways from the impact. Julia saw that a huge Hummer-like vehicle had come up behind them and she knew instinctively it was the Flyin’ Hawaiian. But she was terrified to see his right-seater hanging out the window, aiming a shotgun at her.

  Tobey woke up in an instant. The Mustang was out of control, and Julia was screaming.

  “Jesus!” she bellowed. “That was on purpose!”

  Tobey realized what was happening in a microsecond.

  He yelled, “Yeah—thanks to Dino’s bounty!”

  Julia regained control of the car, but suddenly, a glossy chrome Hummer and a muddy Bronco appeared from the opposite direction. He was never one to fight fairly—the Flyin’ Hawaiian and his goons were trying to trap them.

  “They’re going to seal us off!” Tobey yelled to Julia. “Drift onto the shoulder.”

  “Nope,” she said to his surprise. “I’ve got a better idea.”

  “And that is?” he yelled at her.

  “I’m going for the Hummer,” she said. “He’s a pavement prowler.”

  Tobey was confused. “Pavement prowler?” he repeated loudly.

  “Show car with a big lift kit,” Julia yelled back. “Helps make up for the inferiority complex.”

  Julia held out her pinky finger and let it droop—Tobey got the idea. Small package. Frightened turtle.

  She hit the gas hard, accelerating mightily toward the oncoming vehicles. In an instant, she swerved into the wrong lane, aiming right for the Hummer. It was a game of chicken. A very deadly one. Tobey grabbed the dash and door, holding on for dear life, just as Julia had done so many times earlier in the trip.

  He heard his own voice screaming, “Are you crazy?”

  But Julia didn’t lift her foot off the gas. She kept driving right at the Hummer. Only at the last possible instant did the big truck swerve to miss her. But in doing so, it piled up on the highway’s median, hitting a rock wall head on. The impact caused the big truck to flip, end over end in midair. Julia simply drove under the airborne wreck and kept right on going.

  This got Tobey’s heart rate pumping, maybe like never before.

  “Wow—you are crazy!” he yelled.

  Julia looked over at him and smiled. Her expression said it all. She was quite impressed with herself.

  Then came the shotgun blast.

  Tobey heard it clearly above all the commotion and the roar of his Mustang’s mighty engine.

  He turned to see the Flyin’ Hawaiian’s Baja pre-runner right on their tail. His right-seater was leaning out the window, an enormous twelve-gauge in hand. A second later he fired another shotgun blast.

  The back window of the Mustang exploded in a shower of sparks and glass. Both Julia and Tobey ducked just in time to avoid getting hit by the flying shards. But the Mustang was suddenly swerving uncontrollably.

  “Keep it straight!” he yelled to Julia.

  “I’m trying!” she yelled back.

  Tobey looked out the newly windowless back and saw that the Flyin’ Hawaiian was on the radio even as he was bearing down on the Mustang. His right-seater was back out the window, aiming another shotgun blast. This time it seemed the Mustang’s rear tires were his targets.

  Suddenly Julia was urgently tapping Tobey’s shoulder. He looked straight ahead and saw two cement trucks driving at full throttle, coming down the highway, aiming right at the Mustang.

  Tobey quickly grabbed his radio.

  “Liar One!” he yelled for Benny. “You got your ears on?”

  Then Tobey saw a dirt road off to the left. It was coming up fast.

  He yelled to Julia, “Take your foot off the gas when I say so—and then go hard left, okay?”

  “Okay,” Julia said, concentrating as best she could.

  “Your instinct is going to be to let go,” Tobey warned her.

  “Just do it!” she yelled back at him.

  Tobey yanked up on the emergency brake and Julia took the hard left. Amid the smoke from the tires and exhaust, the Mustang drifted perfectly onto the dirt road.

  But the Flyin’ Hawaiian followed—and was suddenly driving with even more confidence than before. In his mind, the Mustang had just taken his bait—and fallen into his trap.

  There was a fork in the road up ahead and the Bronco took it, disappearing from view. The Mustang continued on the side road and began climbing up the side of a mountain, going through a series of hard lefts and rights—all at extremely high speed.

  But then they came to a scary hairpin turn. Julia was trying her best, but she turned too quickly, and then tried to overcompensate, almost bouncing the car off the cliff wall.

  What she lacked in skill, though, she made up for with pure aggression.

  “Dammit!” she yelled. “I should be better at this!”

  “Don’t let up!” Tobey yelled back at her. “You’re doing good!”

  Julia took his advice and stood on the gas pedal.

  Nearby, but out of their sight, the Ford Bronco was blasting up a parallel dirt road. It was rough, but the truck’s suspension was more than a match for it. In fact, it was actually gathering speed as it went uphill.

  At the same time, the Flyin’ Hawaiian was right behind the Mustang and gaining on them. His right-seater fired another shotgun blast. This one hit off a huge boulder right in front of the supercar, showering it with rock fragments.

  The Hawaiian’s right-seater was being bounced around a lot as he tried to reload. As a result, most of his shotgun shells had fallen to the floor of the Baja.

  Still, the Flyin’ Hawaiian was just a few feet off the Shelby’s bumper.

  The mad chase continued, the Mustang going extremely fast, kicking up dirt and gravel, the Baja getting closer by the second. Then the road abruptly turned from a two-track dirt path to almost no road at all. Suddenly the Mustang was going over some very rough ground—not its best trait.

  Tobey searched a map on his iPad. “We’ve got to find another road!” he yelled to Julia.

  “Up here?” Julia yelled back. “There’s only one road—or there was . . .”

  Tobey grabbed the radio and starting shouting into it again. “Liar One—Liar One! We need you.”

  The Flyin’ Hawaiian was right on the Mustang’s ass now—just inches away. This kind of driving is what he had built his truck for: spitting dirt and rock, all four barrels wide open. As they raced up the side of the mountain at breakneck speed, the truck was gaining on the Mustang with every second.

  The biggest problem was, the Mustang was not built for off-roading, and its undercarriage was seriously bottoming out. Julia was driving as fast as she could without tearing the wheels off the car, but it was no use. They were nearing the summit of the mountain, and their pursuers would be on them in seconds.

  But then came . . . a miracle of sorts.

  And it was all thanks to an angel na
med Benny.

  Suddenly the Mustang’s windshield was filled with the sight of an enormous CH-53 Super Stallion helicopter. The gigantic aircraft rose above the Mustang and floated to a position right over it.

  Tobey was immediately on the radio.

  “Liar One?” he yelled. “Is that you?”

  Suddenly, drop lines from the helicopter fell to the ground and dragged along both sides of the supercar.

  Then Tobey and Julia heard Benny’s voice fill the car.

  “Hook up!” he was yelling. “Hurry!”

  Benny was in the copilot’s seat of the massive U.S. Army chopper. An army pilot was in the seat next to him.

  “Sergeant!,” the man was yelling at Benny now, “this is not what we discussed.”

  “It will be fine, sir,” Benny told him. “Don’t worry.”

  Still driving as fast as they could, Tobey and Julia ran the helicopter’s lift hooks through the open windows of the Mustang. Then Tobey connected them together inside.

  Benny’s voice came over the radio again.

  “Tell me you believe I can fly an Apache helicopter,” he yelled at Tobey.

  Tobey couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “What?” was all he could reply.

  The Mustang and the Super Stallion helicopter were now hooked together, attached by the drop lines. Suddenly, up ahead, Tobey and Julia could see the Bronco coming right at them. A collision was imminent.

  But Benny wasn’t lifting them yet.

  “I’m serious,” he called down to Tobey. “Tell me.”

  Julia yelled at Tobey, “Say whatever he wants!”

  Tobey relented quickly. He yelled into the microphone, “Okay, you can fly an Apache helicopter!”

  “And my handle is Maverick,” Benny responded. “Call me Maverick.”

  “Okay,” Tobey yelled back. “You’re Maverick—you’re a fucking maverick!”

  They could hear Benny laughing over the radio speaker.

  “Now was that so hard?” he asked.

  The Bronco was seconds from penning them off with the Flyin’ Hawaiian still glued to their rear. But the edge of the cliff was also coming up fast.