Highway Blossoms: Episode of Mariah - Chapter 4 - A Not So Simple Car Chase

Mariah blinked away the sand from her eyes. As if small rocks were tied to her lashes, her eyelids folded over. They fluttered open, then down again, sinking further, and further, and further. 

Her head fell.

As night swept by, coyotes returned to their dens, their snouts turned to the distance until the next hunt. Crickets, their legs long since sore from the chirping, had settled beneath fallen brush. The sounds of the desert were a blurred memory, and the stars had dimmed away. Not evening. Not dawn. Just dark.

Mariah bounced back with a gasp. Smacking the taste of sleep from her mouth, she spun to Clara. 

Her chest puffed out air, chugging along at high rail speed. Sweat tumbled from the edges of her forehead, down her nightmare-twisted face, then soaked the blanket that engulfed her. 

She was breathing. Hard. But breathing.

Mariah tugged the blanket from Clara’s shoulders to her stomach. It had become a constant cycle. Sometimes she shivered; sometimes she sweat. But every time it got a little worse. 

Clara whispered out a jagged, pained murmur. Mariah stroked her forehead, brushing away the dampness. Her skin felt like an oven with waves of heat drifting around it. The bandana was pasted to her head, wet enough to wring out like a washcloth. 

“Didn’t I say I was gonna slap you awake if you talked in your sleep?” Mariah sighed.

“Mmmmmaa….” Clara murmured again.

“Call me ‘mama’ and I swear I actually will.” 

An engine revved far in the background. At first, Mariah thought nothing of it, but the sound shotgunned closer. Peering into the mirror, she spotted a pair of headlights hovering across the sand. Their bright lights switched on, forcing Mariah to look away. As the approaching vehicle sped closer, sand twirled beneath its tires, before it glided to a stop.

“What the…”

Mariah cranked down the window and stuck out her head. A set of bright, sterile lights flicked on, burning into her vision as she shielded her eyes with a yelp. 

A car door swung open and footsteps crunched across the sand. Halted by a grunt, the steps made one last thud as they landed on metal.

“Come on, wipe the sand out of those pretty little eyes,” a voice rang out behind a veil of static, echoing further than it had any right to.

As the pain receded, Mariah squinted her eyes open. A greying, bear of a man stood plunked on the back of a pickup truck, shrouded in a white beam of stadium lights attached to a poll. In his hand was a square microphone, its wire curling back to the front of the car. 

“I’m not a lying man, darling. So believe me when I say you were a lot harder tracking down than I thought you’d be.” His voice pulsed out of a speaker attached to the roof of the truck.

Mariah aged fifty years as her face scrunched into a series of unironed wrinkles. Another car lurked behind the truck, its headlights dark and the engine silent. “Gotta give you idiots credit, then! You’re doing a real bang-up job at being a pain in my ass!” 

Clara croaked out a dry cough. The crust glued her eyes shut, only a sliver of light making breaking through her vision. “Mariah…” she rattled, “what’s going on?”

“A heartfelt reunion.”

The Prospector spoke back into the mic. “Now why do you have to be so prickly? I’m trying to reason with you here. It’d be a shame if this had to escalate.” 

“This escalated when your callboys tried to cut me open and stuff me full of led! Don’t bark at me about that crap!”

He took a moment to chuckle. “You’re lucky you got a pretty face to offset that big mouth of yours.” 

“I’d say the same thing, but I’m pretty sure your mug is an accordian now!” she shouted 

Rick rubbed his sore chin as he grumbled away from the mic. Using her hands for support, Clara tried to sit up, but her frail arms crumbled away and she fell back in her seat.

“Fine,” the Prospector slid his hand down his face and groaned. “Let’s just cut to the grit of the matter: you give us the girl and we let you go with the only damage being to your ego.” Feeling the sudden surge of power, his lips curled beneath his beard. “And you know what? Throw in the car, too. Collateral never hurt anybody.”

“Ha! You think you can negotiate just because you have some fancy lights? Losers shouldn’t pretend they have leverage, unless they’re trying to make the real winners laugh!”

Mariah rammed the key into the ignition. The car sputtered on as her hand clutched the lever.

A gunshot exploded through the air, shattering the back window. Clara’s yelp only came out as a breathy gasp. With a sigh, Mariah released the lever.

The headlights of the second car blinked on. Chavez’ muscular arm stuck out the passenger’s window, his fist gripped tight around the gun. In the driver’s seat, Jase rolled back his shoulder, whimpering as he poked at the red that seeped through the bandages.

“Leverage stands for levity. We don’t have to do this back-and-forth. Just know I’m giving you an out, and my boys would be more than happy to recall that opportunity.”

Mariah flung her upper body out the window. “HOW ABOUT I JUST THROW THIS PIECE OF JUNK INTO REVERSE AND ALLEVIATE YOUR FA--”

“Mariah,” Clara whispered. 

Still half out of the car, Mariah looked back.

Clara gave a weak smile. “Just do it. It’s not going to make a difference soon.” Her hand shook as she reached for her wallet. “Here… I won’t say a word to them. You can have the tracker, too. Just… Just let me keep the picture.”

Mariah lingered on the wallet, fixated on the corners of wrinkled bills that stuck out from the leather. 

“I’ve been more than patient with you girls!” Rick’s voice crackled through the static. “Think it’s time you return the favor and give us an answer -- before I let things get messy.”

“Please. You’ve done more than enough already,” Clara said. 

“Chavez, get ready!” Spit shot out onto the mic.

Mariah bit into her lip.

“Please.” 

“Jase, start the car!”

The engine of the second car growled like a jaguar. Mariah’s teeth tore from her lip and grit down below, both top and bottom teeth grinding against each other.

“You are making a huge mistake!”

“Mariah!”

The Prospector planted his foot on the wall of the truck. Negotiation was just about over. “Don’t blame me for what’s about to happ--”

“Hold on!” Mariah shouted. “I’ve got an answer for ya!”

The Prospector stopped himself from jumping off the truck and smirked. “Good girl.”

“Thank goodness.” Clara sighed a breath of relief, but when she looked back she immediately wished she had saved it. “What are you doing?!” Her eyes almost bugged out of her head in horror.

Extending her arm out the window, Mariah gave her answer: a slim, angled middle finger pointed to the heavens. From where Clara was sitting, it glowed, illuminated by the white, angelic light behind them.

Chavez snorted.

“I’m gonna cut it off,” Jase grumbled to himself.

Rick squinted ahead in disbelief, but the realization that what he was seeing was, in fact, real soon struck him. Disbelief turned into a snarl. “Darling, that was the last bird you’ll ever shoot off.” 

“Oh yeah? Well how about this!” Mariah extended her other arm out the window. “Guess it wasn’t the last one, huh?”

Rick ignored her as he threw the mic into the truck and climbed in.

“But why?” Clara asked, quiet enough to be to herself than Mariah.

“The idea of those idiots getting what they want makes me wanna blow chunks. I’ll spite their asses to the grave.” Mariah’s eyes shifted back and she slapped the wallet away. “So get that out of my face until after I get you where you need to go. Can you manage that, Clara?” 

The cars behind them revved their engines. Rick was the first to bullet after them. Jase followed. 

“Crap!” Mariah cranked the car into drive and sprung away. “Keep your ass glued to the seat! This is gonna get gnarly!”

Clara snapped out of her dazed stupor. “You called me…” Content, she slumped back and snuggled into her blanket. “Give ‘em heck.” 

Rick and Jase were glued to the rear, each car on opposing sides of the back bumper. 

“Follow my lead,” Rick spoke into his microphone. 

Rick’s voice staticed through the walkie-talkie in the other car. “Yes, sir! You’ve got it, sir!” Jase released the button, thought for a moment, then rushed to push it again. “O-Over!”

“Idiot.” Chavez ripped the walkie-talkie from his hand. “Just stay focused.” This time, he spoke into it. “Do what you gotta do, boss.” 

Pouting, Jase turned back to the window in time to see Rick ram the backside of Clara’s car. His face lit up, leaping into a broken smile as he spun the wheel to the left.

Still reeling from the previous blast, Mariah and Clara’s hearts nearly pounced out of their chests as Jase’s clunker bashed into the other side. 

The car swayed to the side as the wheel jerked from Mariah’s grasp. Snatching it back, she tightened her grip.

They were sandwiched.

Like a wolf, Jase howled out the window until it devolved into rabid laughter. “Ask him if that was good! Ask him, ask him!” 

Chavez groaned into the walkie-talkie. “Like that?” 

“Yeah, that was perfect. Just keep on doing that,” Rick replied. 

Tickled, Jase bounced his feet on the floormat, his giggling almost lapsing into a squeal. 

Chavez could feel the acidity of vomit kick against his throat. If only it was a side effect of the lump on his head. 

“Again!” Rick called out. Once more, he slammed the truck into the side of the car.

Monkey see. Monkey do. Jase did as he was told and repeated the process with glee, his clunker taking more damage than the target.

Taking turns, they each rammed into both sides. The truck, then the clunker. The truck, then the clunker. Hunks of silver paint chipped off the car, scraping away until its metal skeleton protruded from the frame. 

Mariah switched from left to right, unable to decide whether to speed up or go out swinging with a few rams of her own. 

Clara watched from the side mirror, unable to do much more than lie in her seat and huddle under her blanket as if it were a shield.

Seeing an opening in the car’s wavering speed, Jase pressed harder on the brakes until he caught up with Mariah. His eyes connected with Clara’s, and he floated her a wave. 

Mariah’s head turned just as it happened. 

Clara’s window shattered, pelting her with pieces of glass. The passenger’s side was smashed, a deep dent now carved into its frame. 

Yelping, Clara tried covering herself with her arms, but several slices of glass still cut through her paper skin. 

“Clara!” Mariah shrieked. She shook her fist out the window. “Dammit! That was a cheap shot!” 

With a grin on his face, and the desire of acceptance within his heart, Jase pulled away from the battered car and waited for the inevitable complement. 

“Jase! The hell was that?” The Prospector shouted through his mic. 

“Estúpido!” Chavez clonked Jase over the head with the walkie-talkie. 

“Ya damn fool!” 

“Cabrón!”

“That brain of yours full of grits?”

“Wh-What?” Jase whimpered as he soothed his head. 

“You could have killed her, dumbass!” Chavez said.

“I-I-I…” Jase gulped back the budding tears. “I was just tryin’ to--” 

“I don’t care what happens to the banshee! But Jase, I promise you, if that girl has so much as a scratch on her, you ain’t gonna be getting a cut this time! She’s useless if she’s dead! You hear me?”

“Y-Yes, Prospector, sir.” 

Powering the truck ahead of Mariah, Rick drove into the distance.

“Where you headed, boss?” 

“Going on ahead to do some setup in case things don’t go according to plan.”

Chavez let the static sit for a moment, then answered. “You think I can’t handle this?” 

“Don’t get all twisted. I know you can, but…” 

Chavez glanced over at Jase. “Oh.” 

“I’m sure things will be fine. Just some precautions. But whatever happens, make sure they stay on a straight path.”

“You got it, boss.” 

“You’re my best man.” Then Rick cut out. 

Jase’s hands strangled the wheel. A lump curled into the back of his throat, as his eyes narrowed in on Chavez from the rear view mirror. “What did he just call you?” he whispered.

Back in Clara’s car, Mariah peered at Rick’s truck as it faded away, its towering stadium lights shrinking to a splotch on the horizon. 

“You still with me?” she asked Clara. 

A few fresh cuts sat scattered across her skin. Any other time and they would have stung, but now they were as numb as everything else. Just a vague feeling of unpleasantness, maybe once defined as pain. 

Clara lifted her head to answer, but words were exhausting. She gave a thumbs up, then her head flopped back down. 

“Stay with me, okay?” Mariah snapped her fingers in front of Clara’s face. She turned to check on the other car. Fire consumed Jase’s eyes as he pulled up next to the driver side. “We gotta take care of this quick.”

Chavez looked down the barrel of the gun. At the very tip of it was Mariah’s head, directly in his sights. As his eyes closed, he steadied his trembling hand. It had been been a while. Not long enough to get rusty, though. His eyes snapped open, and he pulled back the hammer. 

“What happened to not wanting kill the sheila, huh?” Jase spouted off. 

“I’m aiming at the loud one. It’s the quickest way, “Chavez said, his concentration broken. 

“Oh, so we’re all about efficiency now? Gotcha. Don’t wanna question the best man.” 

Chavez growled as he set his sight back on Mariah. His eyes close. His hand steadied. It was like a ritual now. He pulled back the hammer again. It was time. 

“YOU AIN’T GETTING OUT OF THIS, GIRLY!” Jase screamed as he pounded the horn. 

Mariah looked over. Startled, Chavez leapt from his seat. His hand slipped and the shot fired. Mariah ducked as the bullet zoomed over her and Clara, then out the busted window. 

Hidden so far down the windshield may as well not have existed, Mariah kept her trembling hands on the wheel. Her heart felt like it had withered from a passionate red to a pale white as the sharp wind of the bullet echoed in her ears. “I hate guns! Hate ‘em! Everyone gets one except me! Do they just hand ‘em out like party favors?” Did these wackjobs even know how damaging all these near-death experiences were? She always ended up having to buy an extra six pack to offset the trauma. It was getting expensive.

“Pay attention…” Clara weak voice mused. “We might crash…”

“It’s a desert! What is there to crash into?”

Clara answered with a guttural moan, then her head flopped back against the seat.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Don’t pass out again!” Mariah’s eyes darted around the car. “Dammit, where are those pills?” 

“The hell was that for? I had her!” Chavez scolded Jase. 

“I-It was for… the intimidation factor, yeah.” Jase answered. 

“The gun’s intimidating enough!” 

“Well excuse me, I just assumed your aim was better than that. Heh. Maybe ya still got glass stuck in your head.”

“You want a bullet stuck in your head, amigo?”  He waved the gun at Jase’s head.

Jase lifted a free hand in defense. “C-C’mon, mate. An honest mistake! I make ‘em all the time! Besides, I’m the driver. You don’t wanna waste a bullet on me.”

“Sometimes I’m tempted.” Chavez pulled away.

“Feel better yet?” Mariah flung the bottle of pills into the back of the car. 

Clara made tender attempts at swallowing, her throat opening wide enough for one pill at a time. “It doesn’t work like that,” she said in her raw voice.

“It better start!” 

Pew. Chavez fired another shot. It clanked off the door. 

“Lay off already!” Mariah ramped up the gas and drove past them. 

Not to be outdone, Jase shifted the clunker into high gear and caught up. “Guess you really weren’t that great of a shot after all, Chav.”

It was a race now. Side mirror to side mirror. 

A growl rumbled deep within Chavez’ throat. He tore off his seatbelt and pushed his upper body out the window, his sizable belly acting as a stabilizing force. 

Pew. Pew. Two more shots. 

Smoke wisped out of Clara’s radio. The rear view mirror was cracked, reflecting back dozens of tiny Mariahs, all splintering off from where her forehead would usually be. 

Mariah shoved away the bad omen with a nervous scoff. “Hope this piece of junk has a backup sensor.”

“It doesn’t.” 

“Oh.”

The glass from the mirror fell to the dashboard.

“Ooooh. Close, but not close enough, mate. Maybe the next shot,” Jase said.

With a scream of frustration, Chavez swirled around and pointed the gun back at Jase. Sucking in a calming breath, he lowered it and released the cylinder. He peeked inside the chambers and counted in his head, before digging into his pocket then sighing. “You’re a lucky guy, you know that?” 

“Y-You aren’t seriously thinking about shooting me, are ya? We’re mates, mate -- amigos!” 

“Really tempted.” He swung the cylinder shut and it locked into place with a click. Leaning as far out the window as he could without falling out, he used both hands to aim the gun. “Get closer! We’re gonna have to make this one count!” Chavez yelled back at Jase.

Mariah watched as the clunker drifted further in. A few more inches and Chavez would be close enough to leap into her car if wanted. She spun the wheel to the right. Jase did too, denying her the elbow room. For a clunker, it was doing a decent job at keeping up. 

“What’s their deal? Why are they trying to ram me when he has the gu--,” a thought penetrated Mariah’s brain like one of Chavez’ bullets. “Clara! Do you remember how many shots he fired off in the alley?”

“Huh?” I was… more worried about the timi--” 

“DO YOU REMEMBER?”

“Uh…” Clara struggled to find an answer in the fog. “Six, I think. Maybe seven. I’m not sure.” 

Mariah struggled to find an answer in her own fog, which was more smoke than anything. Like Chavez, she counted in her head. One in the air. One at the door. One out the window. One in the radio, and one in the mirror. 

She smirked. 

It added up. Or, at least, she figured it did. Math was only useful for counting money. 

“One more question,” Mariah said.

“What is it?” Clara asked. 

“How much do you like this car?” 

“Well… I got it used, but I think it’s nice. The color is pretty, but the mileage isn’t great. My friends said it looked like something a soccer mom would drive, but…” Clara cut herself off with a cough, then started up again and trailed off into further detail. 

The clunker was close. Clara’s analysis of the CD player faded into the background The smell of Chavez’ cigarettes leaked into the car. He locked eyes with Mariah and pulled back the hammer for the last time. 

“GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME!” Mariah flung open the door. 

Chavez took the shot. 

The sound of the bullet seemed quiet, almost quaint, compared to the loud smack his skull made against the car door. 

“Chavez!” Jase stomped on the brakes. The clunker screeched over lines of half-dead shrubs and rocks as it came to a stop. 

“HAHAHAHAHA! Did you hear the sound his head made?” Mariah said, looking behind her as she drove away. “I think it might’ve cracked open. Probably nothing in it, though.”

Clara stared back at her with wide, shaken eyes directed at Mariah’s maniacal face. 

“Don’t gimme’ that! You gotta’ admit that was funny.”

Clara shook her head. 

“What? Is it about the car? You should just be happy it’s not even more torn up. Thing’s a piece of crap anyway.”

“I-It’s not that. It’s…” Clara pointed at her own cheek.

Mariah brought two fingers to her cheekbone. It felt warm and wet, and when she looked at them, her fingers had been painted a watery red. The blood inside her felt like it had been poured over ice as she felt the liquid run down her face. 

This was going to take two extra twelve packs. 

Chavez’ body lied slumped over the window, the gun still embedded into his hand. Jase gave him a hesitant poke, then scrambled back as a moan escaped his mouth. The gun fell to the ground. 

A crooked smile found a home with Jase. After glancing back, glancing forward, then glancing out all the windows, he reached over and unlatched the handle on Chavez’s door. With a light shove, his body slid out of the car and landed on top of a bush.