The horseman holds his ax like he’s about to take a swing. A swing at my head. I pull right to swerve out of the trajectory of his ax, but the steering wheel won’t budge. My pulse quickens. In a few seconds, I’ll become headless—just like him. Instead, I duck, just as his blade slices through glass and metal, cutting through the roof like a tin of corned beef. Cold air blasts over my scalp. An even colder hand grabs me by the neck and lifts me out of my seat. I squeeze my eyes shut and gasp. “I have you now,” he booms.
