Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Gladys whooped like a woman who had just hit the jackpot. She punched the horn with a triumphant slap, grinning wide as she pumped her fist into the air. “Ha! That’s one for the old broad.”
She looked so pleased with herself, so utterly unfazed, that I didn’t know whether to be horrified or impressed. It probably warranted being both. I slumped back into my seat, my body sagging under the weight of crashing adrenaline. My heart still hammered against my ribs, my head was pounding like a war drum, and my hands trembled as I loosened my death grip on the door.
And yet, for all the chaos and danger and sheer terror of that moment, I couldn’t help but feel a strange flicker of admiration for Gladys. There was something about her—this relentless, no-nonsense determination—that made her impossible not to like. She was out of her depth, clearly, and her driving was more dangerous than the people chasing us, but damned if she wasn’t committed.
We were still alive, thanks to her...somehow.
But for the first time since I’d been taken, I felt something new settling into my bones—something fierce, something wild, something that whispered we weren’t out of this yet, but we might actually have a chance.
“I know a place that’s safe.” Gladys's voice was casual again like we weren’t still cutting through side streets with half a bumper hanging on for dear life. “Just a little further. Hang in there, sweetheart.”
I didn’t have the strength to argue. My head was pounding with renewed vengeance, and every bump in the road made my skull feel like it was rattling loose from my spine. The pain pulsed behind my eyes in time with my heartbeat, and I was starting to feel dizzy—like everything had a second, slightly slower shadow.
“Where are we going?” I managed, trying to focus on something—anything at all.
Gladys gave a smile that was way too calm for someone who had just been chased. “A friend of mine lives there, he’ll help. Don’t you worry.”
When we pulled into the parking lot of a retirement home—Sunset Pines, according to the sign—I blinked, not quite trusting what I was seeing.
“A retirement home?” I asked, squinting at the stucco exterior and the decorative bird fountain near the entrance.
“They have Jell-O on Fridays and a doctor on call,” Gladys explained matter-of-factly. “What more could you ask for?”
I opened my mouth to protest but didn't get very far. She was already out of the car and moving faster than I thought possible for someone with questionable depth perception and shoes with Velcro.
Inside, the air smelled faintly like lemon cleaner and oatmeal. Residents shuffled slowly through the wide hallways, some using walkers while others were escorted to activity rooms. Gladys led the way confidently, offering smiles and waves to a few people as she passed.
We found her friend, Ira, on the back patio, deep in a game of shuffleboard with three other men who looked like they hadn’t missed a round in thirty years.
When Ira spotted Gladys, he broke into a crooked grin and tapped his cue to the ground. “My love.” He spoke with such joy, my heart gave a slight ache in response.
Retirement relationship, I thought blearily, even as my vision started to swim. How freaking adorable.
Ira insisted on walking us back to his room, which was neat and smelled like cinnamon and old cologne. I barely made it to the couch before collapsing sideways onto the cushions. Ira disappeared into a cabinet and returned with a soft blanket, draping it over me with surprising tenderness, then fetched a plastic ice pack wrapped in a dish towel and gently placed it on my head.
I muttered something close to gratitude. I wasn’t entirely sure my words made sense anymore.
“You’re seeing double, aren’t you?” he asked, concern replacing the warmth in his voice.
I nodded slowly. “Feels like the whole room is floating.”
He looked at Gladys, then back at me. “We need to take you to a doctor.”
“I don’t know if that’s safe,” she murmured, hesitating.
Ira straightened gently but firmly. “If we wait any longer, she’s going to pass out again, and this time, it might not be from the head knock.”
Eventually, Gladys nodded. They helped me to my feet, each of them bracing under my arms like I weighed nothing. I staggered out with them, legs like wet noodles, my skin clammy and damp.
By the time they eased me into the backseat of the car, I was sweating and shivering at the same time.
“I feel sick,” I whispered. “Like…really sick.”
“You hang on now,” Ira ordered from the front, voice steady.
“We’re gonna get you there, sweetheart,” Gladys added, her hand briefly squeezing mine as she adjusted the seat beneath me. “Just a little longer.”
The car started moving faster than before. I could hear the tires rolling hard over the road, the wind picking up outside, and the faint buzz of music through the crackly speakers. I tried to hold myself in place with my legs, anchoring to the world somehow, but nothing worked. Everything was slipping.