"I have tried simply to write the best I can. Sometimes I have good luck and write better than I can." -Ernest Hemingway

“The only living works are those which have drained much of the author's own life into them.” –Samuel Butler

Monday, November 19, 2012

Baggage Claim (Part Seven)

Chance pressed the gas petal harder and swerved around another slow moving car. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Thoughts of rescuing Genevieve from her worst nightmare forced his protective instincts to rise within him and panic pricked his spine.
Honking horns blared in the background, but Chance ignored them. Focusing solely on driving, he accelerated more. Cars blurred past. Traffic lights faded quickly.
In his peripheral vision, Chance failed to recognize a set of headlights.
He heard the crushing of metal. He saw the blinding light. He felt the air bag burst out of confinement.
Glass sprayed his face and right side. Metal cracked and shattered. The door panel closed in on Chance.
His head was tossed around. His arm was caught between the wheel and the bent door. His shoulder dislocated. The contortion of the door pressed his legs into odd angles. His face was cut and bloodied. His chest felt bruised from the airbag.
The car spun from the impact. Tires squealed. Sounds of the crash reverberated through the dark intersection.
No one had witnessed the collision. 

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