but I know that I need to try everything I can to get out of this alive.
All right, butterflies in my stomach, it’s time to fuck off.
The trunk lid pops open and I lunge for the man who reaches in for me. The tire iron catches under his chin, snapping his head back as I nearly ride his body down. There are three others hovering around but clearly none were too concerned with me because they’re not even reacting yet. I’m so shocked that the first hit landed that I’m a bit unsure what to do now, but I know I don’t have time to waste. I crack the second man across the side of the face before he even turns to me, and when I shift to the third man, I notice he almost looks bored.
He won’t be bored when I break his teeth in.
I swing the tire iron and he slips to the left, grabs my arm, then pushes it forward before easily pulling the tire iron from my grasp as I stare at him in disbelief.
He’s a fucking magician! What the hell? Who does that?
I decide, now that Mr. Kung Fu is holding my weapon of mass destruction, I only have one option left.
Run.
So off I go.
What these assholes don’t know is that I was in track during high school. I was one of the fastest runners the school had. So without wasting a beat, I slip past Asshole Ninja and race off into the ditch. I jump the water at the bottom and disappear into a cornfield.
The leaves whip me in the face, making it feel like they’re cutting into my skin, but I can’t let up. I don’t know where I’m at or where I’m going, but I know I need to get away.
When I chance a peek behind me, I see that Macho Karate Kid is hot on my tail with the fourth man. This man must be the one from the back seat because he instantly takes to yelling at me.
“I’ll fucking kill you, you little asshole noodle-looking prick!” he yells.
While it is my first time being called a noodle, it’s not my first time being called a prick, and honestly, I’m not sure what he’s trying to do with those fighting words besides wasting his breath.
I take a sharp left, hoping that putting some rows between us will obscure their view of me, because while I did run a lot in high school, I’m quickly remembering that I haven’t done a whole lot of running since.
Fuck.
My legs are burning as I break through the cornfield and out onto a road. I look each way, hoping to find a car coming this way with someone inside willing to help me. Another person on the scene might even be enough to scare them off because I honestly don’t know how bad this is.
Do they want me for my money? Or is it something much, much worse?
While the idea of running down the road looking for help sounds appealing, it’s also what stupid people do in horror movies or when someone’s trying to run them down with a car.
I—well, I like to think—am not stupid.
So I stumble into another ditch and off into the woods.
I know I need to stop soon before my legs decide to give up on life and my lungs explode. If I could manage to break sight with them, there’s a possibility that I could hide and get away.
I see a spot where the ground drops, so I run for it, pushing myself as hard as my body will go. When I hit the hill I slip, nearly falling down it before regaining my balance and sliding partway down. Once up on my feet, I keep moving and disappear into the thicket before drawing to a stop.
“Where the fuck did that little asshole go?” the man who refuses to shut up asks, immediately telling me that they lost sight of me.
“Do you think you could ever just shut the fuck up?” the other asks, sounding pissed.
I press my back hard into the tree while trying to calm my breathing. My legs feel weak and my heart is hammering in my chest as realization settles in that this isn’t going extremely well.
When I glance down, I notice there’s a stick lying at my feet with the tip pointed where it snapped off from the tree. I’m tempted to reach down and grab it, but I don’t want to make a sound, so