Chapter 7.
With an incoherent groan, Falco skidded around a turn as he clung to the last of his energy. His bleary eyes peered at the rising speedometer needle and squinted in confusion. It had to be toward 30 or 40-at least, it looked like one of the two. But his face showed no concern over the speed limit; nor did it show regret toward the fact that he attacked his friend, stole his car, and turned it into a weapon in motion.
Soon after turning onto a desolate road, he glanced at the approaching landscape. Apartment complexes of all color schemes and sizes lay throughout the foothills. Falco pushed the gas pedal close to the floor of the car, and the speedometer needle rose past the 70 mark.
"Whoa, whoa-watch out, don't want to get a ticket," he mumbled as he passed a white sign with the number 45.
"Another few miles to go so I can get rid of this-"
A warbling siren cut him off.
"What the hell is this?"
He squinted through bleary eyes at the rear-view mirror and saw a patch of blue and white blaze around the corner. Three brass-colored words came into view in his blurry eyes: Cornerian Defense Forces.
"Damn it."
With a loud grunt, he pushed the accelerator to the floor and clutched the steering wheel. Within seconds, the speedometer needle raced to the top of the dial. The engine roared as the Camry barreled down the street. Falco threw his head over his shoulder and smiled, a renewed energy charging through his veins.
After fetching a last look back at the pursuing squad car, he spat out a curse. At once, he recognized the two Cornerians trailing him. He muttered their names under his breath as his panicking eyes dashed to and fro.
An orange blur passed the corner of Falco's eye and screamed a silent warning. "ROAD CLOSED 500 FEET AHEAD."
"Damn it!"
At the sound of the squad car's horns blaring, he stomped his foot into the floor and thrust the steering wheel around, his sights set on the road's opposite lane.
There was a loud ripping sound and a flash in his eyes, and everything went blank.