Taking the Highway (39 page)

Andre eased off the accelerator, coasting for a second. He could take this on-ramp, get on the highway, perhaps get ahead of the next Overdrive sensor, do something to warn people before it happened.

He could also get stuck in the middle of it. Besides, what could he do to warn people? Honk his horn?

The car drifted toward the on-ramp, and he wrenched it back to center, standing on the gas pedal. Getting on the highway would mean letting Topher go. He had to stop the source of the crashes before they got worse.

Andre drove as fast as he dared, but still Topher’s car crept away from him. The Facet sailed past the next Overdrive sensor and Andre winced as he heard the first cars ping off each other like pinballs. The crash behind them had eliminated some of the cars, so it wasn’t as bad as the first one, but it was bad enough. Up ahead, Andre could see the on-ramp, with cars nosing each other to hop on, the passengers completely unaware they were zooming toward their own deaths.

He scanned the dashboard again. Not even a screamer could help him right now. Half the police force was in Greenfield Village, and the other half was spread thin. Even if he could somehow mobilize every single officer, it wouldn’t be enough. It would take hundreds of people working together to shut down all the on-ramps. There wasn’t that much manpower in the entire city.

His next thought had him scrambling for the datapad, which had fallen to the floor when he’d dropped it. He didn’t need more people. He needed the
right
people. People who knew the city, people who understood the highway system, people who were already on site and could be mobilized at a moment’s notice.

He needed fourths.

He looked ahead. This section of 75 was stick straight, which meant more space between sensors. He had maybe five minutes. He’d need every single one of them.

He grabbed his datapad and scrolled through names one-handed. Contacting his own list would be a waste of time. It was laughably small for what he had to do. He needed to reach as many fourths as he could, as fast as he could. He only knew one person with that kind of network.

He commanded the datapad to call Bob Masterson.

[
CALL REFUSED.
]

Andre swore and called again.

[
CALL REFUSED.
]

“Damn it, Bob!” Andre tried a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth.

Bob picked up on the sixth call. “I’m not talking to you, so quit—”

“Overdrive is crashing, Bob. It’s not just one crash. There’s a guy on the move, taking out sensors all along 75. I need you to get as many fourths as you can and stop people from getting on the highway. You’ll need to use the ramps at East Grand and probably Holbrook and the Davidson if you can. Do not let cars get on the northbound highway. You understand? We’ve got to keep them off.”

Silence at the other end. Andre craned his neck to keep Topher in sight. How fast was he going, anyway? “Bob?”

“You need help.”

“I know!” Andre exhaled and gripped the wheel. “Start at East Grand. It’s about to get the worst of it, I think.”

“I never figured you for a flash addict, but it takes all kinds, I guess.”

“It isn’t drugs, okay? I am perfectly straight.” He flinched as Topher sailed past the Overdrive sensor.

Andre commanded the datapad to record and broadcast, then pointed it out the window. He slowed, letting Bob have a good view of the highway. “Look at this!” he shouted.

“Real-time data camera? Oh, that’s classy, LaCroix.”

There were no brakes this time. It seemed as if the cars sped up. Although there were fewer of them now, they still smacked into each other with all the force they could bear. Andre turned the pad to take in the first explosion.

Andre heard Bob’s sharp intake of air, followed by, “Fuck a duck!”

He pointed the pad back toward himself. “We did this. Fourths. That’s the spin.”

“No we didn’t!”

“That’s how they’ll play it. They have to blame someone and they’ll blame fourths. They’ll blame
us
, Bob. Please, you’re the only one who can do it. You have to stop this.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Throw a FIT. We can’t stop traffic coming in from 94, but if we can cut off the traffic from the side streets—”

“East Grand and Holbrook. Got it.”

“Once those are shut, try to get ahead of it. McNichols and maybe Seven Mile. If we can stop the highway from reaching critical mass, those already on it might have a chance.”

“I’ve sent the FIT.”

“We’re heading northbound. Stop it, Bob. Stop as much as you can.”

He threw the pad on the seat and hit the gas. A warning light appeared on the Challenger’s dashboard. It took him a moment to puzzle it out. Low fuel. The needle on the gauge hovered just above E.

Topher’s car was still too far ahead. Andre braced himself for another horrific crash as Topher’s car whizzed past the sensor. He chanced a look at the highway below and his breath gushed out of him.

Traffic on the highway below looked more like Sunday morning than Friday night. He saw a car clip the one beside it, sending it spinning into a third, but he also saw a sea of brake lights and people swerving out of the way. Cars had empty road to slide into, enough space between them to slow and move and avoid hitting each other.

“Thank you, Bob Masterson.”

They curved toward the next sensor and beyond. Had Topher even bothered tripping that one? There were so few cars on this stretch of highway that he couldn’t tell.

In front of him, the Facet slowed, as if Topher himself couldn’t believe it wasn’t working. Topher stuck his hand out the window, pointing his datapad toward the tower.

Now. He had to stop Topher now. Andre poked his gun out the window, trying to curve it around the massive windshield, knowing it would be a bad angle, especially trying to shoot left-handed. But he might get lucky.

His first shot went wide, but it was enough to get Topher’s attention. Andre watched as Topher pulled his hand in the car and darted forward.

Andre swore. He could shoot until he’d exhausted the Yavorit’s ammunition, and never get close to Topher.

But the gun wasn’t his only weapon.

Andre set his foot on the gas pedal and pressed with all his strength. He’d been thinking it ever since they’d started down the service drive, a nagging idea that he didn’t want to name. Topher would either slow down at the next Overdrive sensor or make a turn, trying to drive to a different one. Either way, Andre would be able to catch up.

More than catch up. A heavy car like the Challenger versus a lightweight like the Facet? Topher wouldn’t stand a chance. But there would be damage. A front-end collision would mean the end of the LaCroix family car, the end of any kind of whole, beautiful thing his Dad had built.

But better that than the end of all those people on the highway, the end of trust in Overdrive, the end of fourthing. The end of Detroit.

He kept his eyes on the road and ran his hand over the dash. His fingers touched the clever knobs and dials. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “If there was any other way, I’d take it.”

The next sensor loomed ahead, and once again, Topher slowed and stuck his hand out the window, pointing it at the tower.

Andre aimed and took two shots. The first missed completely, but the second hit the Facet’s left rear tire, finally slowing Topher down. Andre sped up. He hoped the fuel would last long enough for one final burst. He braced his arms on the steering wheel and slammed head-on into Topher Price-Powell’s car.

He closed his eyes at the final moment, hoping the windshield wouldn’t shatter. The single airbag exploded in his face, and he fell into it. It felt like his head was being snapped off his neck. At the next moment, the car skidded sideways and the passenger window blew inward, sending shards into his right arm.

Andre sat back in the seat and blinked, trying to catch his breath. The impact had knocked the wind out of him and his chest felt like it had been hit with a sledge hammer. The same hammer had apparently smacked him in the face. But hadn’t he landed in an airbag? He brushed glass off his shoulder, unhooked his seatbelt, and tried to open the door. No good. It had bent inward in the crash, and he was unable to force the metal frame. He slid over the center console and used the relatively unscathed passenger door. He swept his gaze over the entirety of the damage, absorbing it all in an instant.

The Challenger’s grille was now a permanent part of the Facet’s backside. The hood had crumpled in upon itself, headlights turned to dust and wires dangling near the front tires. One hubcap spun noisily on the pavement and part of Andre wanted to circle the car to see if the other one had fallen off as well. But the time for grief would come later. He raked his eyes to Topher’s car.

The Facet’s trunk had disappeared somewhere near the Challenger’s engine block and the back seat had settled up against the front one. The rest of the car was intact. The driver’s side door hung open, empty.

Andre whipped his head around and spotted Topher running, vaulting over the divider that separated the service drive from the highway. Andre stared dumbly for a moment before following. Of all places to run, why run
toward
the highway? Then he caught his breath and sped after him, feeling like his bruised chest would explode.

The bastard. The absolute fucking bastard. Topher had already disabled the sensors on this side of the highway, and no more cars would be moving north. Now he was going to cross the highway, because he needed to get close to the Overdrive sensor on the other side, where traffic still flowed freely in the other direction.

Andre patted his pockets, knowing that he’d lost the datapad in the crash. There was no way to contact Bob, no way to stop the southbound traffic, no way to prevent more deaths.

Unless he stopped Topher.

G
uns should be louder,
Talic thought. They should roar like cannons, the way that guns did in old west movies. Guns should blare and holler and command attention and let everyone know they’d been fired.

Today’s weapons were far too quiet for something that put holes in people. Even a good service weapon like the Guardian only squeaked and popped. If it weren’t for the extreme pain in his left ankle, the searing sensation that seemed to burn its way up his calf, you’d hardly know the gun had been fired at all. Sonofabitch it hurt. It felt like every nerve in his body was clustered at his left ankle, and all of them had been ignited at once.

The coffee cart in the corner sported a stack of paper napkins and he’d already used every single one to staunch the blood. A white linen cloth lined the cart, and he pulled it from under the pot and cups. He sat on the floor and tied it around the ankle, trying not to look at it. The more he looked, the more his heart raced and his palms felt clammy and the rest of him felt cold. He could pass out later. Now, he had a job to do.

He held the Guardian loosely, but pointed it enough in Madison’s direction to give her the hint. He jerked his head toward Sofia. “Untie her.”

Madison didn’t move.

“Do it. Or I’ll put you in her place.”

Madison turned to him and clapped her hands together. “Okay, listen to me. I have a safe house in Chicago and drop accounts in Toledo. I will wire you the money. But damn it, Jae Geoffrey, you have to let me go right now.”

Talic sighed and lifted the Guardian, aiming it squarely at Madison’s face. “I said, untie her.”

“Fine. Your funeral.” Madison found scissors in the desk and stood behind Sofia. She left the tape over Sofia’s mouth, instead working on her ankles and wrists. Talic was glad of that. He didn’t want to hear what Sofia had to say. That last thing he needed was a thirty-year old Sergeant telling him how magnificently he’d twisted his own dick.

Talic scooted himself the few meters to the wall. Even moving that much made him feel like his ankle was being hacked with dull picks. He leaned his back against the wall and caught his breath, waiting for the dizziness to pass. He wouldn’t be moving again any time soon.

Sofia stood and pulled the tape off her mouth. “Ah, shit!” She bent over and spat. “That hurts.” She stood and rubbed her cheeks, caught sight of Madison, and stomped one foot toward her, chuckling as Madison shied back.

Sofia grabbed the roll of duct tape from the desk, then snatched up two plastic spoons from the coffee cart. She broke the handles off the spoons, lined them up on either side of her pinky and ring finger, and used the duct tape to splint it together.

Talic watched Sofia’s actions, keeping Madison in his line of vision at the same time. Careful. No sudden movements. Nothing that would spook either of them.

Sofia gingerly touched her left eye, which had swollen nearly shut.

“You okay?” Talic asked. “Can you even see?”

“I’ll be fine.” Sofia glared at him out of her good eye. “No thanks to you.”

“Hey, by the time I got here, you were already in the chair. I played the hand I was dealt.”

“You mean the hand you dealt yourself.” She nodded at the Guardian. “You got this? Because I need some water.”