Then it's rev the motor, shift, rev, shift, rev, shift.
"140!" Aiden yells.
"160!" I yell back. "What's her top speed?"
"Stock is 185, but I have a chip. I've never tested it, but they say it'll go 200. Just pray we don't blow a tire."
"Oh, great. Like we need something else to worry about. This is like one of those math problems. A car is traveling toward you at 70 mph. You're going the opposite direction at 190 mph. If you want to hit the van, when should you cross the median?"
"You know the answer?"
"No. I suck at math. The van is getting closer. Now!" I scream.
Aiden cranks the wheel.
Vincent sees that the stupid kids have turned around and are heading back down the highway in his direction, traveling at a very high rate of speed. But then they lose control of the car and cross the median, headed straight toward him. Idiot kids are going to ruin everything if they hit him. They'll be dead, not that it matters, but he's only a few miles from the airport, and he can't let anything stop him. He tries to judge what will happen next, but it's all happening so fast, all he can do is hit the gas and pray it's enough.
But it's not. It hits the van dead on.
"Ahhh!!!" I scream again as we bear down on the van.
Just when I recognize the driver as the guy from the club in Miami, Aiden yells, "Pull it, Riley! Pull it!"
I wait a heartbeat longer and then pull the emergency brake.
Tires scream.
Metal crunches.
The car does a flat spin and we hit again.
Keatyn is disoriented and feels like she's being tossed from one metal hand to another.
I rub a bump on my head as I crash into something softer.
Dallas.
I quickly remember the events. Dallas falling to the ground. Cooper yelling my name. Vincent firing shots to his chest. Him going down. Vincent's voice behind me. Dallas being thrown into the van.
Which, I'm pretty sure, is rolling.
I hit my shoulder hard and hold on tight to Dallas, trying to cover his head with my arms. I feel his breath on my face, but he doesn't respond when I say, "Dallas, wake up."
After what seems like an eternity, the van teeters to a stop.
I hear Vincent moan.
Somehow, I've got to get Dallas away from him. So he doesn't shoot him like he did Cooper.
Poor Cooper.
I relive the moment. The noise. Cooper's body thrown back when the bullets hit him.
I want to cover my head and bawl. I can't believe he's dead because of me.
He was more than a bodyguard.
He was my friend.
I shake my head to clear it and everything he taught me rushes into my brain.
I need an advantage. A weapon.
Anything.
The van is completely empty in the back. Just me and Dallas surrounded by white metal and gray carpet.
Vincent has switched from moaning to cursing.
And I can tell he's pissed even though I can't understand what he's saying.
He must've been driving too fast and crashed.
I hear a slicing sound and the pop of what I assume is the airbag.
Meaning he's got a knife.
Wrists. Face. Crotch.
Disable him.
Get the gun.
Grab Dallas.
Get away.
But then how will I find B?
My head is throbbing. My shoulder is sore.
Think, Keatyn.
New plan.
Get the gun. Use it to make Vincent tell me where B is.
My eyes are darting across the van, looking for something to use as a weapon, when I spy my backpack. Dallas and I were headed to Stockton's so I could drop it off. So it would be ready when I left tonight.
And there's something heavy in it, I remember.
The rock Avery gave me!
I slowly inch toward it, hoping Vincent can't hear me moving.
Cooper always said to use the element of surprise whenever possible. He said the fact that I'm a girl adds an element of surprise in and of itself. That a man wouldn't expect me to be a threat.
Maybe if I pretend to still be knocked out.
I look toward the windshield. It's smashed and, based on the fact that the trees are pointing the wrong direction, I determine that the van is lying on its side.
When the van comes to a stop, Vincent curses. The scene has become part of his movie, the driver of the Maserati becoming Matt who is trying to keep him and Lacy apart. He can't let Matt win. Not this time. Not again.
He pops the airbag with a pocketknife and then crawls into the back. "Keatyn! Are you okay?"
He rushes toward her in a panic when he notices the blood seeping from her temple. "You're bleeding!"
Her eyes don't open as he pulls her into his lap and caresses her face. He can see that's she's breathing, so he slaps her across the face gently, hoping it will wake her up.
I assess his condition.
His pupils are huge. His face is banged up. A gash above his eye is bleeding. And, most importantly, there's neither a knife nor a gun in his hands.
I punch him right in the face.
He backs up, surprised, but quickly recovers.
He pounces on top of me, grabbing my wrist and ripping off my wish bracelet in the process.
I look at the little seashells-my hopes and dreams of getting my life back-scattered across the floor.
A moment of panic takes hold as the reality of what Vincent has already accomplished sets in.
He has Brooklyn and no one can find him.
I reach for my locket, grasping it and praying the cavalry is on the way.
But with the gunshots, the school would have immediately gone on lockdown.
How long would it take for them to realize we're missing?
"What's that?" Vincent says, taking the necklace out of my hand, ripping it off me, and tossing it aside. "That's not from wardrobe. You can't wear it."
"But . . ."
He gives me a smug grin as he grabs my free hand, then pins my arms above my head.
"It's just you and me now, Lacy," he says, reciting a line from A Day at the Lake. "You want this as badly as I do, don't you?"
He's lost it. He doesn't even know who I am.
I definitely pushed him completely over the edge.
I close my eyes, relaxing like Cooper taught me to do in a situation like this.
But then I decide to take a different approach first.
Because if it's a scene from the movie he wants then that's what he's gonna get.
"I changed my mind, Vincey," I say the lines I read last night in his new script.
"No! Don't give me that bullshit," he says, reciting the next line. "Matt changed your mind! You came crying to me about it! I told you to figure it out."
Even though he's acting pissed, his hold on me has completely relaxed.
It's time.
I knee him in the crotch with as much force as I can muster then grab my backpack and swing it into the side of his head.
The force of the blow knocks him off me.
I move quickly, knowing I need to get Dallas out of here. I don't want him to become Matt or dead partier number whatever in this crazy charade.
I kick the van's back door open.
Vincent sits up.
Just like in the original movie.
He's beaten, bruised, broken, and he still keeps getting up.
But that's good, because I have to get him to tell me where the hell he's keeping B.
Vincent grabs my hair, pulling me back into the van and causing the doors to swing shut.
"No! Don't give me that bullshit," he says, repeating the line. "Matt changed your mind! You came crying to me about it! I told you to figure it out."
I manage to flip my body around, kicking Vincent's arm in the process.
"Ow! Fuck!" he yells. "Abby, stop it. Stop screwing around! You aren't being very professional."
"This isn't part of the movie, Vincent," I say softly. "Tell me where Brooklyn is."
Vincent's face softens and he smiles at me. When he leans in to touch my face, I smash him in the head with the rock I managed to pull out of my bag.
He crumples to the ground.
I don't waste any time. I grab Dallas under his arms, pull him out of the van, across the grass, and to what I hope is a safe distance away.