Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

pushing them within a few feet of the wall as Ty tried desperately to keep them from going out of control. Zane could see the cab gaining on his side of the car for another attempt. “He's coming...."
    "Shut up,” Ty ground out as the side of their car squealed against the concrete. The cab smashed into their side again and the metal of the passenger door screeched and crumpled alarmingly. Ty glanced over at it, taking his eyes off the road for a second to see Zane leaning and struggling to pull his arm away from the door. If the cab smashed them again, one of them was getting hurt, and Ty could easily see who it was going to be. He glanced in the rearview mirror again, seeing that the traffic they had passed was slowing and giving the two dueling cars a wide berth. “Hold on,” he breathed as his peripheral vision caught the cab swerving for another impact.
    He slammed on the brakes to avoid the coming collision. The back wheels smoked as they locked, and the vehicle fishtailed dangerously as the Ford struggled to go from eighty to stop in no time flat. Despite the seat belt, Zane was thrown forward and his free hand landed on the dashboard to catch himself, his gun thumping to the console between the seats. The cab veered into their lane, finding nothing to slam into since they were no longer beside him, then it accelerated in a burst of black smoke as the Ford finally fishtailed out of control and hit the wall with its back left panel. The front tire blew, then the back, and the rental car left the ground, spinning gracefully into the air and then crashing back down onto its side.
    Zane gasped aloud as the seat belt caught him painfully across the chest and snapped him against the door when the car upended. The Ford smashed against the blacktop on the passenger side and slid, only to slow and slam against a hapless motorist before crashing back onto all four wheels.
    The crumpled car finally drifted to a weaving, smoking stop just inches from the concrete as the cab disappeared out of sight ahead of them. Ty sat with his hands clutching the wheel, knuckles white and breathing hard as sirens began to sound somewhere in the distance.
    Beside him, Zane leaned against the crunched passenger door, his entire right side a mass of swamping pain. Glancing over to the driver's side, Zane didn't see any blood on Ty as the man sat staring out the windshield. Zane glanced up around them to see if help was close, only to see the cab about fifty yards away—facing them—and he could see the tires spinning as the driver held down the brake and revved the engine. All traffic on their side of the highway had come to a stop; the lanes littered with wrecked cars and stunned motorists.
    Zane's voice was strained and stunned as he spoke. “Ty. Ty, we gotta get out. Get out of your seat belt.” He tried to pull away from the passenger-side door and excruciating pain tore through his entire body in burning waves, taking his breath away.
    Ty sat staring at the menacingly crushed front grill of the cab in the distance, unmoving as Zane gave the ruined door several weak sideways kicks, trying to free himself. Calmly, as if in a daze, Ty reached up and began plucking away what shards remained of the moonroof's glass.
    Zane swallowed hard as his vision began to fade and blur. He was going into shock. “I can't get out that way,” he told Ty, gritting his teeth.
    Ty looked at him, still in a calm, detached sort of haze. “You're stuck,” he murmured as he reached across Zane's chest and prodded the metal where the other man's arm was captured. He glanced up at the cab, then reached across Zane's lap to the seat handle that would lay the seat back. It didn't budge, and Ty turned his head slightly, his nose brushing against Zane's cheek. He glanced again to see the cab begin its run, heading toward them on a sure collision course. It would gain speed quickly, and then the impact would come. The heavy steel construction of the old car would tear the battered Ford to pieces.
    Ty clambered to stand on the middle console, rising up out of the moonroof as he drew his gun. He waited a half-second and then opened fire. The yellow paint on the hood of the cab began to dent and explode as the bullets hit, and the safety glass shattered, but didn't break. The illegal tinting inside the windshield kept it from falling apart as it was riddled with bullet holes. Ty couldn't see the driver or tell if he was hitting him. He lowered his aim and