Russo, Richard Paul - Just Drive, She Said

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Just Drive, She Said

a short story by Richard Paul Russo

Night.

Ahead of us, the road ended at a washed-out bridge, but we were driving

for it at eighty-five miles an hour. Moonlight lit the barricades, the

ruins of the bridge dangling over muddy water below.

"Jesus!" I said, trying to look at her. She pressed the gun harder into my

temple.

"Just drive," she said.

I drove.

It wasn't even my car.

It was my sister's, an ugly-brown Mazda RX-7 that drove fast and smooth.

I'd borrowed it for a few days, and Friday night I drove to a nearby

liquor store to pick up some wine--something to get me through another

empty weekend.

I was inside for fifteen or twenty minutes. With three bottles of wine in

hand, I walked back to the car. I unlocked the door, opened it, and the

overhead light went on.

A woman sat in the passenger seat pointing a gun at me. She didn't move,

silent and intense, and I thought she was trying to decide whether or not

to shoot me.

"Get inside and close the door," she finally said.

I wasn't going to do anything stupid. I got in, closed the door, and the

light went off.

The woman took the wine from me with one hand, and with the other jabbed

the gun into my ribs.

"Start the engine," she said.

As I did, strange lights went on in the middle of the dash. The tape deck

was gone, replaced by a larger, glistening piece of electronics with

dozens of buttons, dials, and readouts. Amber and green lights flickered

across the thing, the displays showing figures that were probably letters

or numbers, though nothing I recognized.

"What the hell is that?" I asked.

"A probability wave console. Generator, tuner, and amplifier."

Jesus, hijacked by a lunatic.

She jabbed me again with the gun, and said, "Let's go."

"This isn't my car," I told her.

"You think I give a shit?"

No, guess not. "My sister's waiting for me," I said, without much hope.

"Want me to repeat what I just said?"

I shook my head. "Where to?"

"Just go right and drive a while," she said.

The gun was still in my ribs, so I did what she asked.

Her hair was short and dark, and she was wearing blue jeans, a gray

sweatshirt, and dark boots. Slim, but strong-looking. She didn't look

crazy, I thought, but then what did crazy look like?

As I drove along, she fiddled with the console, and a stream of figures

moved across the largest display. She glanced up, nodded toward a wrecked

Toyota ahead of us on the side of the road, and said, "That used to be my

car." We passed the wreck, and she returned her attention to the console.

A blue light began to blink frantically on the side of the console.

"Goddammit," the woman said. "How the hell did she find me so soon?" She

pushed another button and a small screen emerged from the top of the

console. A glowing map appeared on the screen, with two different blinking

lights a few inches apart.

"Turn right at the next corner," she said, "and hit the gas. Move this

crate."

I turned and accelerated. Traffic was light, but I still had to pay

attention to other cars.

file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Rich...l%20Russo%20-%20Just%20Drive,%20She%20Said.txt (1 of 10) [1/5/2005 11:15:42 PM]

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