Chapter 3

The partner finally separated us, throwing me back into a seat. He was furious.

"What is wrong with you?" he hissed, his face inches from mine. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

I just shrugged, feigning sullenness. "He started it."

He glared at me, then at the mess of spilled water on the floor. His plan was ruined. He sat back down, muttering curses under his breath.

The driver tried to defuse the situation. "Kid," he said, looking at me in the mirror. "Your foster dad, Rufus, he said you were a smart kid. A bit of a troublemaker, but smart. What's his deal, anyway? He seemed real eager to get you on this trip."

This was my chance. Time to plant the seed.

"Rufus?" I said, with a short, bitter laugh. "He's not my real dad. He and his wife, they're just looking out for themselves. I heard them talking last night. Something about a rival crew, how they were going to sell you guys out for a bigger cut. They said your organization was getting sloppy."

I made it all up on the spot, a lie tailored to their criminal paranoia.

Silence.

The driver didn't respond. His partner turned slowly in his seat, his eyes narrowed. They were thinking about it. They knew Rufus was greedy. The idea that he'd betray them wasn't a stretch. It was plausible. My lie was working.

I glanced at the digital clock on the van's dashboard. 7:42 PM.

I knew this time. I knew this location. Interstate 81, southbound, just past the exit for a town that didn't matter. In my previous life, this was where it all ended for a lot of people.

I could see the flashing lights up ahead, faint at first, then growing brighter through the sheeting rain. A major pile-up. A jackknifed tractor-trailer, cars spinning out, a chain reaction of metal and glass.

The driver saw it too and started to slow down, but it was too late to avoid the chaos completely. Traffic was screeching to a halt.

This was my moment.

The van was buzzing, my whole body felt electric. I took a deep breath.

As the driver focused on navigating the unfolding disaster ahead, I lunged forward. I grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and yanked it hard to the right.

The van lurched violently. The other kids screamed in pure terror. The driver yelled my name, a curse mixed with disbelief.

We veered off the road, away from the pile-up, and slammed head-on into a thick concrete divider.

The impact was brutal. Metal screamed, glass shattered. My head hit the seat in front of me, and the world exploded in a flash of white. But I had controlled the crash. It was severe enough to injure them, but survivable for us.