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.Horns blared, cars swerved and collided as Bradbury hurtled through the stream of vehicles, regardless of the chaos he caused.He would kill someone else at this rate, of that I had no doubt.I closed the gap; three metres, two metres, my hands reaching once more as I sought to connect with the fleeing Bentley.I felt a bolt course through me, an electric shock as my fingers brushed the chrome, and then I was inside the vehicle, shifting through the boot before emerging in the rear passenger seat.Lucy’s head bounced off the window, her neck crooked where she’d been flung into the car.She was concussed, unconscious, her body tangled in a seatbelt Mr Hancock had fitted.Her body jiggled as the Bentley bounced along, its driver oblivious to the condition of his passenger.I brought my attention to Bradbury, his wiry body hunched over the wheel.He looked up into the rear-view mirror and, not for the first time that night, didn’t like what he saw.Neither did I.The world could have stopped at that moment for all I knew.I saw him utterly for what he was, his eyes as black as the Bentley’s bodywork.They were the dull, dead eyes of a shark, a killer’s gaze.The shark got a bad press; it killed to eat.Bradbury shared no such honest compulsion.They say the eyes are the window into the soul; Bradbury didn’t have one.‘You,’ he said, dark eyes blinking.‘But.I killed you!’‘So you did, sport,’ I replied.‘Seems you did a poor job.How’s that leg holding up?’‘You.you can’t be there.I’m having a.a.hallucination or a vision.’‘If this is a vision then it’s a bitch, isn’t it?’‘I’m dreaming,’ he said, choking on the words.‘This is a nightmare.’‘A nightmare, for sure, but one of your making, you murdering swine.’Bradbury had heard enough.He swerved the wheel suddenly, as if he could send me flying from the car.The Bentley lurched from side to side, yet I remained seated, connected to the car as if it were Dougie.Lucy bounced about once more, her head banging off the window again.I was worried for her; who knew what he’d done to leave her senseless in the back seat.‘Give up, Bradbury,’ I said, cutting the banter.My voice came out as a hiss, cold breath chilling his neck.I saw the goosebumps race across his skin, my murderer twitching and flinching with every icy word.Over his shoulder, I could see the keys swinging in the ignition.‘You’re not getting away.The police are after you.How far do you think you’ll get?’He blinked, wiping his eyes with the back of a bloodied hand.He was muttering to himself now, his speech fast and fevered.If I reached forward, could I grab the keys? Rip them out? It wasn’t the same as the push I could do on Dougie, those rare moments when we could physically connect, but then again this was no ordinary situation.I felt every ounce of righteous rage coursing through my body.I was convinced I could do anything.Slowly I phased through the driver’s seat, beginning to slide through his twitching body.The sensation was nauseating for me; the devil knew how hideous it was for Bradbury.‘Turn yourself in,’ I said, my voice echoing in his head.‘Let the girl go.Stop running.’‘This can’t be happening,’ he was saying, hitting himself in the temple with his fist.‘This can’t be happening.I’m dreaming.Wake up, fella.It’s just a dream.If I jolt myself enough, I’ll wake up.’I was reaching forward, through him, towards the keys, but I could sense he was grinning.The side of his face curling up as I slid through, contorting into a hideous Joker smile.He whispered the last words before I could grab the keys.‘Wake up.’He turned the wheel hard and held it fast as we were approaching the incline towards the railway bridge.The big old oak on the right-hand side of the road was suddenly illuminated by the Bentley’s headlights.I changed my tack, seizing the steering wheel instead, my hands fitting over his, blue fingers closing over his white-knuckled grasp.I yanked hard, back the other way, every ounce of will and determination pouring into the deed.The wheel spun left, our hands fused together as the Bentley lurched back the other way as it rode across the bridge.Now it was the stone wall that was lit by the lamp’s beams, as we crashed into red brick and out into the space beyond.Ordinarily, one’s life flashes before one’s eyes in a near-death moment like this, freezing people into inaction.I was hindered by no such sense of mortality.I turned and leapt into the back seat, phasing through a screaming Bradbury and his seat as the Bentley began nose-diving through the air over the wall.We were accompanied by a shower of broken masonry as we plummeted toward the railway line below.Lucy was a ragdoll, a loose collection of flesh and bone that would be pulverised at the moment of impact.I threw myself over her as the Bentley rolled, hitting the embankment once, twice, before bouncing and grinding to a screeching halt on the tracks.I slowly brought my face up and looked around the wrecked car.The Bentley had been transformed into a mass of twisted metal and splintered wood, interiors buckled and broken.Steam hissed from the radiator, sparks spluttering from the exposed engine beyond the shattered windscreen [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]