Nothing to shield us from the massive, ten-thousand pound truck that is currently not slowing down.
Veah grabs my hand, so suddenly I don’t protest.
You have to trust me, she says.
I-for what ?
The truck is close now. One hundred yards.
You have to trust me, she repeats urgently. Please.
I look into her eyes. Slate and sky, fierce with determination.
Veah has never hurt me-on purpose.
And maybe she set the Yakuza on my trail, but there is guilt etched into every line of her face for that.
I trust you, I whisper. What do you want me to do ?
Stand there, she says. And no matter what, don’t move.
I don’t give myself time to think. I just run.
Sand lashes against my arms, my face, and I squint against the wind and the moisture of rain. The truck is fifty yards away.
Forty.
Veah is climbing onto the lifeguard tower.
She’s getting a better view for when the truck runs you over and leaves a Kaya-shaped hole in the beach, some dark voice whispers.
I ignore it-I have to ignore it.
The truck is forty-thirty-twenty yards away.
My entire body begins to shake. The ocean is behind me, lapping against the shore.
The headlights are so close I feel their heat. I can see the driver. An Asian man with a handsome, twisted face.
He is not going to stop. He is-not going to stop.
The only thing tethering me to the spot now is-is what ?
I don’t know that it’s trust. I barely know Veah. But maybe it’s faith-because she has not let me down yet.
Even if, right now, I am the bait.
You better have a plan, I think to Veah.
From the corner of my eye, I see her training a sniper’s rifle on-on the truck.
She’s going to blow up the damn truck.
The roar of the engine is so loud in my ears I can’t hear anything. Can’t think anything but, I’m going to die and it will be because of a pretty girl.
Ten yards. So close I can taste the kerosene.
I can’t believe I trusted her. I-
Come on ! She is suddenly right in front of me, so fast she is a blur, so fast she is inhuman. Her arms are around my waist and her body is against mine, throwing us so far to the side we are out of the reach of the truck.
It is too late for the truck to stop.
And as it hurtles headfirst into the crashing waves, I realize-it is on fire.
You shot the gas tank, I say numbly.
Veah is on top of me, her sleek dark hair sprinkled with sand. Her eyes are wide and round and so, so bright with an emotion I can’t name. Her hands are planted on either side of me, her chest against mine, and even in this moment-with the wind howling and the rain beginning to fall and the truck that is about to explode, I want to . . . to kiss her.
Instead, I breathe, We have to go now. When that truck explodes-
Veah is already on her feet, extending her hand.
This time, I take it. There is no time to argue to logic of it-and I like the feel of her. Her hand against mine.
Don’t think about that.
Faster than I thought it was possible, we run.
The rain falls now, streaking down my face.
The waves kiss our ankles, the sand wet and sticky.
In the distance, I hear the crash and spark and sudden silence-
Don’t look back, Veah says.
I look back.
At the explosion of heat and writhing smoke. The fire that dances on the waves of the black ocean. The shards of metal that plummet from the sky like fallen birds.
The truck driver. He would have run me over.
But is this any way to die ?
Come on, Veah says, but I shake my head.
I have to see, I whisper, and whatever she hears in my voice-whatever it is that is in my face-she listens. Her hand releases mine, but we stand side by side.
Watching the world burn.