No Exit

by Taylor Adams

Another inch of powder and she’d be stranded up here, nine thousand feet above sea level with a quarter tank of gas, no cell coverage, and only her troubled thoughts for company.

She clicked off the radio, leaned into the passenger seat to see the road, and tried to remember—what was the last car she’d seen today? How many miles back?

Nah this is scary

One labeled cofee, one labeled coco. Someone on state payroll is zero for two on spelling.

And Rodent Face? He was a walking AMBER Alert already.

Wild 💀

Five gallons of gasoline. And bleach. Materials to clean up a crime scene, maybe?

This was America, where cops and robbers carry guns. Where, as the NRA tells us, the only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun. Hokey, but true as hell.

“Do you know how to cut a girl in half?” Lars asked abruptly. The room went quiet. The window creaked under another howl of wind.

Ayy yooo

The difference between a hero and a victim? Timing.

She whirled to face Jay. “You didn’t tell me there were two of them.” “I thought you knew.” “How could I know?” “Sorry—” “Why didn’t you fucking mention it?” “I’m sorry.” Jay’s voice broke.

It’s like a magic I have. In the end, things always go my way.”

She touched her nose— He lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and slammed her face into the tabletop. Fireworks behind her eyes. Dizzying pain. The cartilage in her nose made a wet crunch and she recoiled backward, nearly falling off her chair, clasping both hands to her face.

This guy's crazy!

History doesn’t quite repeat itself, but damn, it sure can rhyme.

Somehow, she wished it were farther away, across the room, hopeless and unreachable. But no, it was right there, and she could almost reach out and touch it, if only her hands weren’t pinned.

“Gotta say, Darbs, as far as good Samaritans go, you’re batting a thousand. First you confide in one of the abductors, and then you get the abductee killed. Nice work.”

Don’t fear the pros, Darby. The pros know what they’re doing, and do it cleanly. Fear the amateurs.

One errant spark was all it would take, and she’d come too far and fought too hard tonight to be killed by a goddamn spark.