Marci asked. Ramone had barely caught his breath, feeling his heart slow as she spoke. “Hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” he muttered, looking out the rear window from his place beside Marci. There was no sign of anyone behind them. “Turn around and go back, Blythe, we can do it now,” Marci urged, her voice sounding high-pitched and somewhat hysterical. “You really think he’ll still be there?” Blythe’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “No way, Marci. We’re not going back. Even if he’s still there, he might wake up. What did you do to him, anyway?” Before entering the freeway entirely, Blythe slowed and Ramone scrambled around to the front seat. She zoomed away as soon as he was in. Ramone heard the click of Marci’s seatbelt as she settled in and he fastened his own. At least he hoped it was her seatbelt. He wasn’t too familiar with the sounds of guns.
