Betrayal

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“Son, what do you want me to do?” Sam asked, eyes wide in terror.

“Turn left!” I yelled.

“Turn left where?”

“Laura Madison Street. Should be your next left,” Tish said.

“That’ll work,” I said, not having a clue where we were.

“Then what?” Sam asked, as he nearly sideswiped a car trying to dodge a gathering of Grays in the street.

“Just drive,” I said.

“I hafta know, dammit,” Sam pleaded, pulling a hard left down the street Tish suggested.

Up ahead, I could see the headlights of a stopped vehicle blocking our way. “Turn right, Sam – turn right!”

Miley saved our ass when he gave us the keys to the Ripsaw. It was a beast of a vehicle. Of course, it wasn’t just the stock Ripsaw, the one that cost well over a hundred grand. No, this one was customized to accommodate and impress the gaggle of executives and finance guys he liked to personally ferry out to the Patch. It was fast, sleek, and built like a tank. The latter was about to become the most critical feature.

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