Chapter Thirteen
My foot mashed the brake, but the car barreled on. Automatically, I slammed the pedal. Nothing. By then, I was into the wide turn sweeping right onto a connecting road that led to Route 1.
The weird thing about post-traumatic stress is its tendency to affect you in the oddest ways, at the least expected times. Instead of panicking, my instincts kicked in, and a surreal calm settled over me.
To make the turn, I wrested the wheel to the right. The car’s left side skidded onto the shoulder, but the right side tires gripped the pavement. I managed to reach the connecting road, and my car tore on in the right lane. I couldn’t imagine making it to Route 1 without plowing into a phone pole or another vehicle.
I sideswiped the tires against the curb, which did little more than
