“You’re bleeding,” Adam says, reaching for my face.
“I’m fine,” I say, jerking away from his hand. My forehead might be bleeding, but I don’t feel any pain. I’m numb, inside and out.
I turn toward the window. I can’t stand the sight of him looking at me like I’m something dangerous and unpredictable. Like I might snap at any moment and hurt one of them too. But maybe it’s good Adam saw the real me. Future-Adam told him to not get too attached to me, to be careful. Now he knows why.
“Elena—” he starts.
A siren blares behind us. I twist in my seat and spot the police car right behind us, lights flashing in the darkness. And even though they’re right on our tail and we’re pretty much screwed, I breathe a tiny sigh of relief that they’re okay. I’m not a killer—not today anyway.
“This is bad,” Trent says.
Lights flash on the dashboard and a robotic voice sounds from inside the car. “Police override. Your vehicle will pull over to the side. Please remain seated.”
“Make that really bad,” Trent adds.
We start to slow and veer to the right. Chris grabs the steering wheel. “What? No, don’t pull over!”
The car crawls to a stop. I tug on the door, but it’s locked. Even the windows won’t roll down. We’re trapped here. But we can’t get arrested, not now, not with only a few hours left in the future. We still need to find Lynne, and if Future-Adam’s right, break into Aether Corp—all with enough time to make it back to the aperture.
“What’s going on?” Adam asks, leaning forward to peer at the dashboard.
“The police must have control of the car or something,” Chris says. “Wait, let me try…” He presses the button Future-Adam showed us that switches to manual driving, and the car takes off again. Yet another thing Future-Adam planned for.
“There we go!” Chris yanks the steering wheel to the side and we dart into another lane. He makes a quick right, the car’s tires squealing in the rain, and we speed down a smaller street. But the siren stays behind us.
With the others helping to direct him, Chris weaves us through traffic at a dangerous speed, turning down random streets. Next to him, Zoe rocks back and forth, clutching her bag. I stare out the back window, giving updates on how close the cops are. But after a couple more twists and turns, their lights vanish in the haze.
“We lost them,” I call over my shoulder.
“Yes!” Chris says, pounding on the steering wheel.
The others cheer, and I relax back into my seat. “Now we can head to Lynne’s and—”A siren cuts me off with a flash of red and blue.
Adam leans forward to examine the dashboard. “The car must have a tracker or something. We’ll never get away from them.”
“You’re probably right,” Chris says. “I think I can disable it, but someone else will have to drive.”
“I can drive,” Adam says.
“No, I might need your help. Anyone else?”
Trent and Zoe mutter that they don’t know how. The sirens get louder as the police car creeps up our ass.
“I’ll do it.” I got my license a couple months ago, although I’m definitely not experienced enough for a car chase with the police. But there’s no one else who can do it.
“Okay,” Chris says. “I have to put the car back on automatic so we can switch seats, so let’s make it quick.”
He hits the button and the car slows down again, dashboard lights flashing. Zoe climbs in back first, squeezing between us, and then Chris takes her spot in the passenger seat. I jump into the driver’s seat, grab the steering wheel with shaking hands, and hit the manual button.
“Go, go, go!” Trent yells from the back.
I slam my foot on the gas and we zoom forward, tires squealing on the wet road. Chris pulls a mini toolbox out of his backpack. He uses a screwdriver to open the screen on the dashboard, revealing the wires behind it. Adam leans forward from the middle of the backseat, and the two of them quietly discuss the inner workings of the car’s computer.
I want to watch what they’re doing, but I’m too busy trying to keep us on the road. Rain pounds against the windshield, and I have to squint to see anything ahead of us. Sirens blare behind us. I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white. I don’t bother trying to lose the cops. With the tracker on, there’s no point. I just try to keep ahead of them, barreling down the street and darting around other cars.