A/N: Well once again thank you all for your reviews. I wasn't intending to write and post this chapter so soon (so it's probably not that great) but I just found out that I'm going away this Sunday and I won't be near a computer until Christmas at the earliest (and that's not certain) so I won't be able to update for a long time. Christmas will be the earliest if I get time but from New Years onwards it's possible that I will be going away again and won't be back till late January-early February so I might not update till then. But in saying that, I might get inspired and write a few chapter on paper that I can type whenever I happen to get a few days access to a computer. Ok enough from me and I hope you all like this chapter – if not tell me WHY :)
Tristan threw the van into gear and floored it out of the car park. Horns blared as the seemingly suicidal driver drove headlong into the traffic, swerving wildly between lanes.
"DuGrey!" Jake yelled trying desperately to get his friend's attention, waving with one hand while the other struggled with his seatbelt, "What the hell is going on?"
Between the yelling and the less than smooth ride they were currently experiencing, the two girls in the back woke with a jolt.
"What the…" Rory held her head after it connected painfully with the roof.
"Tristan!" Paris yelled, horrified, "What the hell are you doing!"
"Driving." He glanced over his shoulder, veering towards the other side of the road in the process.
"Watch the road!" Paris and Jake yelled simultaneously.
"Stop!" Rory's eyes went wide. Registering the urgency in her voice, Tristan swung the van into a nearby alleyway, coming to a stop between rows of rubbish bins and dumpsters. Throwing the backdoors open, Rory leapt out and sank to her knees on the concrete.
"Uh…" Paris craned her neck so she could see Rory's face, "Are you ok?"
"Is she throwing up?" Jake screwed his nose up, remaining firmly in his seat while Tristan climbed into the back.
Rising unsteadily back to her feet, Rory sheepishly turned back to face the others.
"Feel better?" Paris raised an eyebrow and held out her hand to help Rory back into the van.
"Yeah, sorry."
"Don't be sorry." Paris rolled her eyes before rounding on Tristan, "Gonna tell us why you were driving like that now?"
----------
"We have to go to the police." Paris decided when Tristan finished his story.
"Turn ourselves in?" Jake asked in disbelief, "We can't do that, we'll go to jail. Do you know what they'd do to people like us in jail?"
"We won't go to jail." Paris countered calmly, "We're innocent. Innocent people don't go to jail."
"Yes they do." Tristan pointed out, "It happens all the time and that's what'll happen to us. All the evidence points to us being involved. We were at the scene of the crime, we left with the real bad guys, we're still driving their van and we have the money."
"But we didn't do anything wrong." Paris continued to protest, "What do you want to do? Stay on the run forever?"
"No, but…"
"But what? If we don't go to the cops now then that's what we'll be doing for the rest of our lives. And when we get caught – which we will – they'll never believe us that we're innocent. Only guilty people have reason to run."
"Be realistic Gellar!" Jake snapped, "Look at it from their point of view. We're bored upper-class teenagers who, in our quest for excitement got in with the wrong crowd and we're now wanted felons."
"If we go to the police and explain what happened then they have to believe us. We can take them to Al and Tom's house, all the evidence is there."
"And you know where it is do you?" Tristan raised an eyebrow, "We weren't exactly paying attention to where we were going when we left."
"But we know what road we came into town on, we can just follow that-"
"No we can't." Jake interrupted, "While you were sleeping we went through at least 10 intersections, there are a million roads the house could be down."
"I still want to go to the police." Paris folded her arms and glared at the two boys sitting opposite her.
"I agree with Paris." Rory finally spoke up. She was sitting on the back bumper of the van, waiting for her stomach to settle. "I just want to go home."
"If we go to the cops, I doubt we'll be going home for a long time." Jake spoke in a patronising tone as if speaking to a small dim-witted child; a fact that did not go unnoticed by Rory.
"If we go on the run then we'll never be going home." She spoke as slowly as he had.
"Can we please just go home?" Paris never begged and Tristan sighed, looking back and forth between the two girls for a moment before shrugging,
"Looks like we're going to the cops."
"What!" Jake's face twisted at Tristan's betrayal, "I thought you were on my side!"
"I'm not on anyone's side." Tristan shrugged again as he stood to return to the driver's seat, "Let's just get this over with."
Jake's muttering went ignored by the others as the van pulled onto the road, heading back the way they'd come. The sun had set while they were talking in the alley and the streets around them were all but deserted.
"What the hell…" Tristan mumbled to himself as he noticed headlights on full-beam in the rearview mirror. They were coming up fast behind the van, but instead of passing it like he expected, they began to flash.
"Is it the cops?" Jake wound down his window to look behind.
"No." Tristan shook his head, "There're no lights on the roof."
"Well who is it then?" Paris asked. Despite having rearranged the boxes to make themselves more comfortable, there was nothing they could do to fix the painted windows and so neither Paris nor Rory could see a thing.
"I don't know." Tristan admitted nervously as Jake quickly pulled his head back into the van.
"They're coming up your side."
Sure enough, a moment later the black four-wheel drive pulled even with the van.
"Holy fuck!" Tristan yelled. The faces looking back at him were all too familiar and he changed gears and coaxed the van forward.
"Who is-" Rory began but was cut off by a voice she recognised.
"Pull over you little shits!"
"Omigod!" Paris' hands flew to her mouth, "It's them."
"Don't pull over." Rory yelled to Tristan.
"Don't worry, I wasn't intending to." Tristan assured her through clenched teeth as the two vehicles raced on side by side.
"Dude that's a F150." Jake pointed out, "We're never gonna outrun it in this."
"We don't have to." Tristan's eyes were fixed dead-ahead and following his gaze, Rory and Paris both inhaled quickly.
"Oh god." Rory mumbled covering her head with her arms as Paris slid behind a pile of boxes for protection.
The narrow bridge drew closer with neither Tristan nor the truck showing any signs of backing off.
"It's been nice knowing you." Jake whispered, half to Tristan, half to the girls and half to himself.
"Ditto." Tristan answered. With less than 50 metres remaining between the cars and the bridge, all four occupants of the van believed that these were their last moments. Tristan almost closed his eyes but they flew open when Jake hit his arm.
"We won." His eyes were wide as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. Turning to look, Tristan saw that his friend was right. The F150 was slowing down and looked ready to pull in behind them.
"Oh thank God." Tristan straightened the van so it was aiming for the centre of the bridge. A collective sigh or relief swept through the vehicle as the front wheels crossed the line onto the newer concrete of the one-lane bridge. But, as in all car chases, they relaxed too soon. The front bumper of the four-wheel drive connected with the rear tyre of the van, throwing the four teenager forward. Tristan and Jake were wearing seatbelts but Rory and Paris flew into the back of the bench seat. Before any of them had time to recover, the other vehicle slammed into the van again and this time Tristan was unable to hold it on course. The van spun around and slid sideways on two wheels down the road. Sparks were flying everywhere as parts broke and dragged dangerously along the concrete. Before the van could tip completely it smashed into the bridges barrier with a sickening crash. Momentum combined with the sheer size of the van meant the metal fence didn't stand a chance. It buckled almost immediately and the van flew into mid-air in a spectacular arc.
Inside the van, panic ensued. The screams were loud enough to be heard for miles, carried by the still night. Most of the residents of the small town would later report that after the squealing tyres and terrified screams, the deafening splash was followed by silence. Nothing but silence.