Page 162 of The Island
Rearview.
Kate driving, Matt riding shotgun. With an actual shotgun. Ivan squeezed in there too. Ash from the bushfire they’d started falling now like snow.
Matt leaned out the truck’s window.
“Everyone down!” Heather said.
Birdshot tore through the Porsche.
Olivia was thrown forward into the dashboard.
“Kids!”
“I’m OK,” Owen said from the floor of the car.
“Olivia? Olivia? Olivia?”
Olivia wasn’t saying anything.
“Owen, get up here and take the wheel!”
“What?”
“Take the wheel!”
Owen grabbed the wheel as Heather bent over Olivia.
“What do I do?” Owen asked.
“Straight for the beach. It’s on cruise control. Just steer.”
Olivia was a rag doll.
Heather examined her. No gunshot wounds, but she’d hit her head.
“Uhh,” she said.
“Are you OK, sweetie?”
“I’m OK.”
“Heather, this is crazy! What’s your plan?” Matt asked through the walkie.
Wouldn’t you like to know? She looked through the smashed rear window and aimed the .22 rifle at Kate driving the Toyota. She squeezed the trigger; the Porsche hit a bump and she missed. She loaded another round and aimed at the engine block. That was a bigger target. She shot into the Hilux’s engine, and she definitely hit something.
Damn it. That was the last of the .22 rounds.
“Keep your heads down, kids! I’m taking over, Owen,” she said.
But before she could get both hands on the wheel, the heath ended and they were on the beach.
The Porsche went into a spin and the Toyota was on top of them.
Kate rammed them and the Porsche went up onto its side again. If they flipped, there would be no mercy. Logic demanded it. Ma demanded it.
Kate would slam on the brakes. Matt and Ivan would get out, drag them out of the car, and execute them one by one.
Heather wasn’t going to allow that to happen.
