Branson Montgomery, 29, Legally Unemployed, Divorced
Screeching tires pierced the droning wails of police sirens. Branson lurched heavily against the car door. His back ached, feeling the firm handled jab into it. Corners shouldn’t be taken this fast. Honestly, there’s a lot of things that shouldn’t happen. But it’d had been a long night.
Warmness enveloped his hands again. “Why didn’t you tell us.” Branson pressed harder into Driver’s side causing him to wince with a sharp breath.
“Would’ve slowed us down.” More dull thunks dented the back of the car. Manic laughter filled the back seat as Grim and Dark returned the pleasantries. “Don’t worry. Don’t it a hundred times.” Driver staggered his words, painting his chin crimson with a gurgle and cough. Branson didn’t even know the man’s name. Hardly mattered at this point.
There was a sudden crack as Branson’s head smacked hard into the window. The car jolted to the right, barely swerving away from the traffic. The city rush by them. Soft yellow lights flashed overhead. Cars frantically pulled onto the sidewalk. Impossibly tall stacks of bricks and stone stood resilient, unaware of the thrilling chase that weaved at their feet. With every passing second, Branson’s chest thumped louder and harder. His ears beat to the pulse. It was a chaotic rhythm that failed to synch with the constant sirens and erratic gunfire.
“Shit,” someone laughed from behind. It was Grim — a man aptly named given the jagged smile sprawled across his lips.
Branson returned his focus on Driver. He was loosing too much blood. His hands burned red, twisted on the steer wheel. His green eyes wavered and his head bobbed lower and lower. Quickly, the car blaze in brightness as a raving red and blue light closed in. The chase was coming to an end. Branson pushed deeper against Driver’s wound. More warmness gushed through his fingers. “We’re gonna be alright. We’re gonna-” Branson’s eyes flicked up to see a wall of immovable stone approaching far too quickly than it should.