I said, stomping on the gas. “Hell, hell, hell.” The Charioteer groaned as I pressed the accelerator, but didn’t go much faster. “What is it?” said Russell. “Who are those guys?” The van kept pursuing us. I wondered if its engine had been damaged in the collision. If it hadn’t, the van could outpace the failing Charioteer and simply ram us. “They’re not Rebels,” I said, pushing the gas to the floor. The car got up to about fifty, but the noise was horrendous. “They’re not even human.” “What?” said Russell. The white van drew nearer. Another few yards and it would hit us.“Russell,” I said. “Start shooting. Aim for their engine. Hurry!” Russell nodded, twisted around in his seat, and took aim with his AK-47. The van drew within a few feet of our back bumper, and Russell started shooting, the crack of the shots loud in my ear and the smell of cordite thick in my nostrils. The back window had already been cracked from our escape, and it exploded as Russell’s bullets passed through it.
