O, how the mighty fall! With ruin upon ruin, heap’d, and vengeance answer’d upon vengeance. ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost. ~•~ AMANDA “I didn't pay you thousands to stop at every fucking checkpoint, Mister.” I seethed, gritting my teeth in anger, as the driver pulled to a stop at another police roadblock, this one much busier than the other two we passed. “I have to fucking stop, missus.” He looked over his shoulder at me, scowling. “Either this or my cab is confiscated, and I'm fined. I damn well can't afford that, even with the scraps you're paying. So do me a favor, stop being a whiny bitch, and shut up.” My mouth flew open in surprise, and for a few seconds, all I could see were spots, my cheeks flaming with rage. What the fuck? Did this good-for-nothing asshole just call me a whiny bitch? And did he call the 2,000 extra dollars scraps? Scraps? The fuck! I almost laughed at the irony of my situation. Almost. Take deep breaths, Amanda. Deep… deep… deep fucking breaths, I told myself. You didn't skillfully manipulate Kent into doing your bidding, pack a boatload of makeup on your face, and slip through street cameras and back alleyways just to get pissed off by some random bloke with a shitty attitude. You haven't come this far to be stopped by something so small. You can't be upset right now and blow up your cover. Not with a cop standing less than three feet away. “Who’s in there with you?” As if reading my mind, the officer asked at the worst possible time. “Um… he… she… he…” The driver stammered, muttering an incomprehensible response that didn’t satisfy the cop because the next thing I knew, he was leaning forward and looking directly at me. “Lower the windows,” He ordered gruffly. “Now.” As the window rolled down, I could hear the driver swear beneath his breath. The cop peered in to get a better look at me, but when he couldn't see past my mask in the poorly lit cab. He pulled a flashlight out and shined it directly into my eyes.Fuck! I winced, my breath hitching and my heart racing. I said nothing, though. I merely kept my look blank and neutral while the cop scrutinized me. His face was unreadable, his eyes steely and stern beneath the blue brim of his cap. For an agonizing couple of minutes, he inspected me with no reaction. Then he straightened and took one step back from the car. He said curtly to the driver. “Where are you headed?” “I’m driving my passenger home. Up north.” That was all the driver said, and the cop nodded. A few more conversations ensued, and then he waved us off. The moment the cab engine roared, and we were back on the road, a tension I hadn't realized I'd been holding in released its grip. I slumped back against the seat, relief coursing through my veins. That had been close. “Goodness…” I muttered and spoke again. “You handled that well.” I was referring to the cop's questions about where we were going and the tactical response he provided. The driver gave a dry grunt of acknowledgment. “Just doin’ my job. Was part of your instructions when you got in my cab. I assume you're running from something or someone. What is it, mis—” “It's none of your business,” I cut him off abruptly. While he didn’t sound accusatory, the question was enough to get me up on my haunches again. “How long until we get to the airport…” My words trailed off when I heard police sirens wailing in the distance, and I tensed immediately. Had I been busted? Shit. Shit. Shit. I wanted to dismiss the thought that the cop from earlier recognized me as the woman with the arrest warrant. Maybe I was just being paranoid — but the wailing sounds were getting closer, louder, and drawing nearer. My gut twisted uncomfortably. “You have to speed up.” “What? Now?!” The driver's eyes widened. “We're going fifty here. No way in hell am I going more than that in the middle of a fuckin' road, la—” “Do as I fucking say!” I angrily interrupted, bringing out the pistol I’d tucked into my coat pocket. I pressed the barrel into his cheekbone. “Drive faster!” The driver didn't argue for the first time tonight and obeyed my instructions. I saw terror in his eyes, sweat beading on his brow, and his hands shaking as he swapped gears and slammed on the accelerator like a maniac. The cab's tires screeched as he sped down the road, making evasive moves and narrowly avoiding pedestrians whenever the lanes sufficiently cleared for us to pass. The police cars continued to blare behind, and now, without a doubt, I knew they were coming for us. For me. And they seemed to be gaining. “Fuck!” The driver cursed loudly when he saw the headlights flashing in the rearview mirror. “Fuck! Fuck!” I looked up just in time to see the red lights flashing above us just before the driver stomped on the brakes hard, jerking me forward and sending us careening to a sudden, jarring halt. A minute later, the screech of tires and a loud boom reverberated inside the vehicle. I felt the floor shift slightly, and then a succession of gunshots echoed as bullets pierced the metal panel of the passenger's side door. The car stopped moving. Glass shattered. Something struck me hard in the chest. And I merely saw stars. Pain shot up my arm, throwing me backward, and my head smashed hard against the side window. “Shit, shit…” I shook my head slowly, trying to clear it. When the blur faded away, I noticed blood trickling down my temple from where I’d hit my head on the window. Shit. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck…” I cursed, feeling hazy. I glanced at the driver's seat. The poor man's limp body had fallen against the now-open door, and his blood spilled onto the asphalt below. “Shit. Shit.” I cursed for the millionth time and tried to pull myself up, but before I could, the door beside me opened, and someone grabbed my arm roughly, dragging me out of the cab. My hand instinctively tightened around the pistol in my grip, and I pushed feebly against the firm hold, but whoever held me was stronger. “Let go of me, jerk!” I spat, struggling to break free, but to no avail. So I cocked my gun as best I could, aimed it at the person — a cop — and fired. Boom! The thunderous sound rang out. The pistol slipped from my shaky hand, and the cop stumbled backward, releasing me. “Son of a fucking bitch, you'll pay for that,” He growled, reaching for his radio. I heard him murmur something incoherent, like he was calling for backup, but that didn't stop me from bolting and sprinting as if my life depended on it. Well, it did depend on it. Of course, the road wasn't empty, and the sound of sirens soon filled the night, followed by shouts and yelling from officers in pursuit. Cars honked, and horns blared as people slammed on their brakes, trying to swerve safely to avoid hitting me. People screamed and cursed, trying to get out of my way as I ran past. I probably looked like a lunatic let loose out on the street. My fake blonde wig had disappeared, something had torn my gray granny scarf to shreds, and blood and mud stained my oversized shirt and coat. But I didn't care that people threw horrific looks at me and that my disguise had been ruined. I just kept running without pause. I didn’t stop. I couldn't stop. ‘Continue running, Amanda. Keep running!’ I screamed to myself internally, my pulse racing in my chest and my legs pumping as hard as possible. But even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were useless. I'd never make it. The officers pursuing me were close behind. Too close… A sharp, piercing pain struck my left shoulder, and I felt myself stumbling sideways. My legs buckled beneath me, and the world swirled in front of my eyes as I fell to the ground. A painful whimper tore out from my throat. “No… no…” “Freeze!” A voice barked. “Police! Put your hands up! You're under arrest!”