2
Layne
I sing in the shower. When I’m working, I talk to myself. Sometimes, I forget to bathe. That makes me weird.
The guy sitting next to me, racing my car through a security gate and a hail of gunfire, is f*****g crazy with a capital f**k.
“You okay?” he asks again.
“They shot at us.” I still can’t believe it. I thought the guard would help me. He didn’t even flinch as he pointed the gun at my face. I guess he thought I was colluding with Crazy Man.
My captor looks grim. “Yeah.”
I wrap my arms around myself. “Why would they do that? I work there.”
The man’s jaw clenches as he accelerates down the road. He takes a few turns at breakneck speed, and curses when the car wobbles. “Damn.”
“What?”
“They got the tires.”
I whimper. My poor Prius.
“The car is the least of our problem
