red hill - jamie mcguire

“Jesus Christ!” Bryce yelled. “Get us out of here, Miranda! Go! Go!”
I yanked on the gearshift and backed into the car behind me, and then spun the wheel, shoving the
gearshift into drive. After a few near misses and even more sideswipes, we were under the bridge. I
didn’t stop, hoping the psychopaths above would be too busy with the poor people on the south side
to see that I was going to take the on-ramp on the other side and floor it toward Fairview.
“What are you doing” Ashley said. “Hide under the bridge!”
“We’ll get stuck there!” Bryce said, knowing I was too focused on getting us the hell out of there to
respond. “Keep going, Miranda! Don’t stop!”
We cleared the bridge and flipped a U-turn to catch the southbound on-ramp. The Bug caught air
more than once on its climb to the top—sometimes on the asphalt, sometimes not—and finally made it
to the road.
Cooper patted my seat ardently. “They’re not even paying attention! Keep going!”
We rode in silence for the next mile, but the second we were out of range Ashley began to sniff
and whimper. We had left behind a massacre. Children were among the victims on the interstate.
“Has the whole world gone crazy” Ashley cried.
Bryce and Cooper were sniffing, too. Before long hot tears were burning down my cheeks.
Moments later, we were all sobbing.
Bryce wiped his nose on his shirt, and then took my right hand. “You saved our lives, Miranda.”
I squeezed his hand, unable to speak. I took a long, broken breath, and tried to concentrate on the
road. We would be coming up on Fairview soon.