‘We gotta get out…’ you say, turning towards Long Jake. But your words of warning stick in your throat when you catch sight of him lying on the floor, unmoving, his chest wet with blood. You reach for a Medi-kit and rush to his side, but it is too late; he caught the worst of the shotgun blast and nothing can be done to help him now.
‘Watch the street,’ shouts the girl, as she moves forward to search the body of Long Jake’s killer. ‘This dude you’ve wasted has some real mean kin. They’ll soon get to wonderin’ what’s hap’ning in here and’ll come to check us out.’ She pockets some cartridges, snatches up the killer’s shotgun, and hurriedly reloads it as she moves towards the door. From out of the ruins opposite step three punks armed with pistols. Slowly they advance, their movements stiff with caution.
‘Make a run for the car,’ she says. ‘I’ll cover you.’ You nod in agreement and take a deep breath before launching yourself out of the doorway. The punks stop and shoot wildly at your moving form, but their nerve deserts them when the girl opens fire, and they soon melt away into the ruins. You reach your roadster, start the engine, and then beckon to the girl to follow. The moment she is safely aboard, you drop the clutch and stamp your foot on the gas pedal. The engine roars and the back wheels spin, sending up great clouds of dust and loose stones, but the car does not move forwards. Panic knots your stomach as you feel the rear end snaking sideways—you are losing control. Then the tyres grip the road and you are thrown back in your seat as you screech away, accelerating like a rocket along the main street that leads out of Sherman.