You pull the trigger and immediately duck your head behind the roadster’s reinforced steel door. (Remember to deduct the relevant number of rounds from your Ammo Pouch.) The speed of your reflexes saves you from being hit by the Maverick’s gunfire as, in the throes of death, he empties his pistol into the side of your car.
With the screams of the other clansmen ringing in your ears, you force yourself to concentrate on restarting your roadster. This time, despite an almost overwhelming urge to stamp the pedal straight through the floor, you take your foot off the gas as you turn the ignition switch. The move works—the engine roars back to life—and within seconds you are accelerating away from the Mavericks with your eyes glued firmly on the convoy’s tail lights, glowing red in the distance. A few poorly aimed bullets chase your escape but you soon catch up with the school bus and pass beyond range of the clansmen’s guns.