The rain lightened for a few moments, and Shannon breathed easier.
Then it returned.
Shannon couldn't see out any window except the bit she could see through the windshield—headlights catching shimmering pavement. From all directions, the rain battered the car, as if she were in a car wash.
Her gut was twisted into knots, and her quick breathing was interspersed with a sob, threatened by pity to develop into full-blown status.
She held back as best she could because she needed to focus on driving. She didn't want the car to slip off the road. And her car had more chances of slipping in the rain than most since it was rear-wheel drive. A red—wild cherry—Camaro, 2SS, V8, jet-black interior. She was able to afford it easily being unmarried, living still with her mom, and having a more-than-well-paying job.
That she had no longer.
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
She wiped them away fast, trying to clear her vision.
Needed to focus on the road.
"Stop it, Shannon," she said out loud.
Now was not the time to feel sorry for herself. Sure, it was overwhelming, but it was for Virginia. She reminded herself of that.
She was giving up her job, her life, even her boyfriend. There was no going back at this point. She knew that. She could go back, but it would spell disaster for everyone, especially herself.
Virginia was right.
They'd stumbled into something.
It wasn't just today's unsanctioned mission.
It had started a few months into Shannon's friendship with Virginia. Senator Hart, her father, went missing. Virginia investigated. It took her two weeks to find him. She found his dead body. Was the first to find it. Shannon was with Virginia.
She would never be able to forget that day.
It was cold and overcast. Dark. Dusk.
She could see their breathing, and Shannon was wearing layers of coats and a scarf. She remembered their outfits, remembered every detail—the orange autumn leaves lightly falling in the field. Walking across the meadow until they found the body. The oak trees, whispering nothing. No evidence of God's purpose or hand.
It was the worst day of her life.
She'd known Senator Hart well, the kindest, calmest, most reassuring man. And Virginia was her best friend. Finding his body in a field, just laying there. Even now, thinking about it, she shivered.
*****
Some time went by before Virginia asked for help on her first unsanctioned mission. They'd only taken on a handful of them when they were caught and excoriated, warned. USI hadn't learned the purpose of their missions. Virginia had crafted a lie. She hadn't even told Shannon the end game was to get Calvert. Not until today.
Shannon knew what the missions were about though—Virginia was looking for justice for her father's murder.
To try to justify this current mission, Virginia had added artificial intel to the USI database that a bomb was being transported on a plane of South American drug lords. But USI hadn't taken the bait. Now Shannon knew that they had taken the bait and had passed it along to the CIA.
And here they were.
Was it worth it to lose everything over a handful of unsanctioned missions because Virginia's father had been murdered and Virginia decided to go on a vigilante hunt?
Shannon didn't know.
But she did know.
Didn't she?
She wouldn't have fought the men back in the abandoned library if she hadn't already made her decision. It had to be worth it. Shannon believed Virginia because Virginia was the smartest person she knew. There was something special, if not haunted, about the girl.
And if somehow they could get to Calvert, it would be all worth it.
Right now, though, Shannon felt like she'd done her part.
And she wanted to be finished.
*****
She would need to disappear. Slip into obscurity. Eventually, after enough time passed, she'd reach out to her mom, who she already dearly missed. The thought of what would happen next, Shannon's disappearance, was too much. She thought of how devastated her mom would be.
Her father had passed away some time ago, heart disease. He'd been overweight her whole life and it caught up to him. She didn't have any other close family.
She had her mom. She had Virginia. And she and her boyfriend had been dating for a few months. They were getting serious. Even thinking of moving in with each other.
Shannon saw headlights coming through the back window. She wiped more tears away, turned up the heat on the front window, and eased back in her chair.
She wondered for a moment if the headlights behind her were from an agency vehicle.
But a noise caught her attention.
Followed by.
Headlights, bright in the night, coming from the right side, through the passenger window. She saw the oncoming vehicle perhaps a moment too late. A big black suburban, standard issue. Intelligence.
She revved the Camaro forward, but the suburban caught the tail-end of the car. Even with skid-control, her car spun out over the rain-smattered blacktop. Her foot pressed further against the gas pedal. VROOOOM! Around. Around. Around. She spun her hands one way on the wheel, then the other. Less gas for a second. More gas. Reacting.
The red Camaro completed the three-sixty and she jammed the pedal forward. The tires slipped out beneath the car, then caught. She launched forward, the heavy engine pouncing at the chance, continuing the same direction she'd been going.
But more headlights poured through the windows and loud suburban engines mixed into the sound of the surrounding rain.
Shannon's eyes were dry now.
Training kicked in.
Focused her.
She had both hands on the wheel. The car was working fine. Tire pressure was fine. No warnings on the dashboard. The pedal was to the floor. The car shifted up, shifted up, shifted up, keeping the tachometer below the red line. Headlights behind her, beside her, coming at her. She sped forward.
And now gunshots.
A bullet pierced the back window.
Shattered.
Shannon screamed, couldn't help herself.
What could she do? She was outnumbered and outgunned. She'd counted, in the back of her mind, three Suburbans.
She couldn't see far through the windshield, all she knew was she needed to get out of their line of sight. She knew this area, maybe better than they did. She'd grown up in this neighborhood.
There were mountains. Well, hills. Off to the left.
She could pull off this street onto a dirt road, take them through a bit of woods, ride up into the hills, over precarious dirt tracks. That was her only thought.
The interstate would be too easy for them.
Shannon found herself asking, What would Virginia do in this scenario?
She heard a few more guns pop off. Her head didn't burst and she felt no pain. Still good. They were probably targeting her gas tank. If they'd hit it she wouldn't know for a few minutes. Unlike the movies, gas tanks don't explode, especially fuel-injected current-year Camaros.
Virginia would take the risk and improvise.
*****
The dirt roads were dangerous in this rain, going this fast, but they were her only option. There was a frontage road on the other side of the hills. Ran to an interstate. She could drive into the city. If George Washington, the spymaster himself, had disappeared into the woods, she could do the same, right?
The dirt road was just ahead.
More gunshots.
The road was on the left. When she turned, they would have a clear view of her driver's side window. It was a risk.
Virginia would do it, though.
She knew it.
Shannon leaned her seat back but remained upright. Then, without slowing, she threw the car into a sharp turn for the dirt road. She leaned back, under the lengthy window, as the car bounced onto the hard-packed uneven dirt.
Gunshots. Her window broke.
Then the vehicles were to the rear and she brought her seat forward, waiting for any pain if a gunshot had come through the door. None.
Except part of her window had broken away, glass on her lap, and rain was spilling through. The rain was bouncing in and hitting her forehead. She leaned forward more, out of it.
Windshield wipers at maximum.
Car bouncing around.
She changed the setting on the mid-panel to four-wheel drive. The Camaro jetted forward and she followed the road between two sets of trees, into the colorful woods of Washington. The Suburbans were behind her, further than before. But they were following.