I was driving as fast as I dared, but the four-wheel drive had already appeared in the rearview mirror and was growing rapidly larger. I looked over at Tiller. His eyes were open, but his head bobbed with every bump we went over. He was in bad shape, that much was obvious. “Hang in there, Tiller. I’ll get you to a hospital.” The rear view mirror was telling me a story I didn’t want to hear; the Red Four-wheel drive was almost upon us. I tried to zigzag. I tried to sere who was driving the chase car; it had to be the dwarf. A shot rang out, and the driver’s side mirror shattered into a thousand pieces. Tiller shook groggily awake again. I looked desperately at the older man. “Tiller. Buddy, hang in there. I need a little help here. I don’t know where I’m going.” Tiller raised a shaky hand and pointed. His voice was a bare whisper. “Go that way.” “What’s over there? Tiller?” But it was no use, he was out again. Trusting Tiller and whatever luck I had left, I turned the wheel in the direction the stricken man had pointed, and floored it.
