"Jesus Christ!" Nora screeched as a biker sailed past her van and across the road on his back wheel. Dodging the Harley, she overcompensated and swung into the opposite side of the highway, just missing the back wheels of a sporty Porsche Carrera Turbo. Making a few animalistic noises, she wrestled the steering wheel, forcing the van back onto the right side of the road and away from oncoming traffic.
Once she gained control, Nora looked through her back window and felt her eyes widen. The two vehicles had picked up their speed and were only inches away from her bumper. She grinded her foot into the pedal, causing her motor to wail as it struggled to keep up with her commands.
Her face scrunched in puzzlement as she flew forward down the slick roads. Who the hell were these people? The cops? The FBI? Pissed off campers? Her suspicions scattered, but subsided as she watched the vehicles pause in their chase. They inexplicably slowed to a stop and gradually faded into the distance. Confused yet relieved by their lack of pursuit, she let out a deep breath, still shaking from her several close encounters with disaster.
C'mon, girl. Get it together, she ordered herself. These people don't run you. Get a grip on yourself.
But there was nothing for her to grip onto. She had no idea where she was going. She hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. An entire friggin' legion of soldiers armed to the hilt had hunted them down and nearly killed them, twice.. Her poor driving skills were slowly turning her only means of transportation into a scrap pile. She snuck a glance into her rear view mirror. And still, there was no sign of Lucas or his Mustang.
She used her remaining energy to focus on her twin brother. She could see him, fighting in the cabin's front yard, or so she pictured from the images his emotions lent her. She frowned. He should have been out by now. He was losing; she could feel it. Nora sent her force field to coat his body, to protect him against his enemies.
Come on, Luke. Come on, Lukie… she chanted over and over again in her mind as if mentally ordering him to escape could compel it to happen.
Though she felt her force field losing hold on him, her concern for him ended abruptly as the front of a colossal, gray jet aircraft broke into her line of vision. She gave a shout of surprise and pushed all her weight onto the brake pedal. The van leaned into a sudden stop and bounced her back into the seat like a human slingshot.
Nora's mouth hung open in astonishment.
A jumbo jet had parked itself right across the road.
A barrage of questions shot through her mind with no answers to silence them. She searched the plane for any familiar words or symbols, but there were none to be found. Sitting there dumbfounded, Nora felt a familiar panic birth within the pit of her stomach.
The jet and its occupants were here for her and for her brother. By now, what had happened at the house was most likely public knowledge. She imagined cops combing her front lawn, easily piecing together what had happened. If some crazy underground militia could follow them, what was to say the police, the government, or even a news crew couldn't.
Which meant if they were following her, they also knew she was a mutant. Frowning, Nora hurriedly backed up and turned her van back around the way she came. The Windstar's speed hastened steadily as if growing with her every realization.
Her brother had been a fool to send her away, and she had acted even more foolishly in allowing him to. She headed back to the campground, determined to bring him back. They had been wrong, she realized miserably. Their plan never could have worked. They were up against more than they could have ever possibly imagined.
If Nora would have had time to fully contemplate her situation, she probably would have noticed that no one had come out of the jet to confront her, that no one had invaded her. Instead, at the same moment her brother fell onto the ground, a piercing pain seared through her mind and colors flared before her eyes. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and she felt something awful happening to her.
It started with her wrists, but then she felt someone relentlessly hitting Lucas' face, his chest, his shoulders. They weren't just attacking him. Nora clenched her hands into the plush seat of the van. They were trying, hoping to kill him.
She writhed in her seat, disbelieving that anyone could ever embody so much hate, much less toward her twin brother. Her foot off the pedal, the van lost its momentum and began to coast into the center of the highway.
When the road before her came into focus, she glimpsed a familiar motorcycle and sparkling red car blocking her path.
Confusion struck her, and then her brother's sudden, urgent warning.
He was calling her name.
The two drivers, one with shades and one without, were stepping out onto the asphalt and moving quickly toward her.
Her brother's voice implored her. They were after her, he said. They were after her, and he didn't want her to stop, not for anything. Nora's eyes glowered as she focused on the determined faces of the men heading in her direction.
Glaring, she revved her engine and unbuckled her seatbelt. They had terrorized her family, destroyed her house, tried to kill Lucas, and now, they had pushed her over the edge. With newfound purpose, she stared forward.
The bastards were going to get what they deserved.
Tires squealing, she pounded her foot down on the gas and barreled straight toward the Porsche that served her only obstacle.
Outside of his car, Scott Summers' face twisted as he stopped in his tracks. "What is she…"
Nora was seconds from collision and showed no signs of stopping.
Scott's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God."
"Get out of the way!" Wolverine bellowed as he and Cyclops threw themselves off the road and into the brush.
Never letting her foot off of the pedal, Nora leaned into the door to let herself roll out onto the asphalt.
The van door buckled as she pushed down on the handle.
She gasped. Her brother. The door.
She went to slam on her brakes, but it was too late. The vehicles collided, sending shards of grill and chrome blasting in all directions, like a colossal grenade created seventy times larger to combust all the more violently.
Nora never felt it.
Instead, strong blue arms clasped around her middle just before impact.
