Maybe it wasme.The version of me at the start of this month.
The version of me before—
I yanked my thoughts away from that direction so forcefully that I jerked the wheel. Straightening quickly, I glanced in myrearview mirror to see if anyone was startled by my distracted driving.
A black SUV followed in my lane, keeping a steady distance. Far enough back that I couldn’t make out the features of the driver, only the outline of his face. There was a passenger in the front, his head turned so the reflection of the sun on the windshield blocked him out entirely.
Ahead of us, a bridge stretched long over the bay. A prickle of nerves crawled up the back of my neck as my tires hit the edge of the bridge.
The town wasn’t an island. There were other routes. I remembered seeing them when my GPS failed to catch a signal and I was stuck scrolling over screenshots of the map.
My eyes kept traveling back to the rearview mirror. The SUV was closer, still in my lane.
My palms were sweaty on the wheel, and I was going five miles under the speed limit. They’d pass me soon enough.
I would be alone again.
Finally, the end of the bridge was in sight. There was nothing on the other side but a network of empty, abandoned buildings.
I took one damp hand off the wheel, rubbing it on my jeans. I picked up the cup of coffee and forced down a shallow sip.
The SUV was closer still, riding the bumper of my car. If I slammed on my brakes, he would hit me.
I could see him through the windshield now. Thick hands gripping the wheel. His face hard and expressionless as he accelerated. The sun caught his eyes through the glass, giving them an unusual yellow glow.
An image of Jay on that last night flashed through my mind. Twisted and monstrous, his eyes catching a silver beam of moonlight and turning it an odd shade of amber.
Jay’s eyes were brown.
And this man’s probably were too, if the sun wasn’t blasting him in the face.
I tapped my foot onto the accelerator a little harder, pushing my car to the speed limit. Typical Texas road rager.
I didn’t have to look in the mirror again to know he was keeping pace with me. The engine of the SUV roared loudly over the hum of my Prius.
Anxiety clenched my stomach. I took one hand off the wheel to grab for my phone.
The corner of it slipped from my fingers as my car jolted forward. I went to pump the brakes—then realized what was happening and slammed the other pedal.
I grabbed for my phone again only to realize it had fallen on the floor of the passenger side.
This time my head crashed forward as the bumpers collided, pulling at my neck and startling a scream from me.
My speedometer was pushing eighty, my foot cramping as I pushed the pedal as far down as it went.
We cleared the bridge, the shoulder narrowing as the road came even with the shallow edge of the bay. The SUV rammed my car again.
I was moving too fast, losing control of all that momentum and spinning out. I couldn’t tell which direction I was going, couldn’t see anything but a blur of light and color.
The car tilted, then came to a jarring halt. This time my head hit the steering wheel, and for a brief moment my body was numb, frozen in a state of shock.
The tide rushed in my ears. Stars sparkled across my eyes.
I felt a trickle of water at my ankles. Blinking, I stared down at the puddle around my feet, trying to make sense of it.
Did my coffee spill?
All at once, sensation returned to me. Pain stabbed at my temple. My neck was tight and throbbing. Prickles moved down my arm to my fingertips.