Running

This one is a little on the darker side, so reader discretion advised. This was written off a random question came across on a list of hypothetical questions, meant for you to "get to know someone better". The question from the list is the first line.

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Would you kill one innocent child to heal the world’s diseases forever?

No.

Why?

I know there are plenty of others who would.

Amanda adjusted the rear-view mirror again. “I should just keep my hand here, then it won’t fall,” she muttered to herself. But, she didn’t like the idea of zipping along at a stuttering 60-80 miles an hour with only one hand on the wheel, so she let go of the mirror and refocused on the road. The empty road. Straight grey street, faded lines, pale green hills, grey sky with darker grey pelting on her window…something was off. She just didn’t know what. Did that speed limit sign say one hundred twenty five?

Blinking quickly, she stifled a yawn. With a squeak, the mirror slanted down again. “No way am I going that fast in this rattle trap.” Amanda huffed. She risked a glance at the view of the backseat. Black eyes and a round face peeked at her from beneath a woven blanket. “Have a nice nap, Saga?”

The blond haired girl gasped and ducked back under the blanket.

“I’m not that scary, am I?”

The girl shot her head out for a moment. After shouting something in Icelandic, she wriggled under the blanket.

Amanda sighed. “I know you said something about a witch, but that’s it.” She adjusted the mirror again, this time turning it towards herself. She eyed her crooked nose distastefully. “The mole isn’t that big is it?”

A blaring horn jerked her back into reality. Cursing, she yanked the wheel to the left. “That’s what was wrong,” she muttered. “Wrong side of the road. That sign was probably kilometers, too…”

Saga laughed and spoke again.

“Well, glad you’re happy.” Amanda flashed a quick smile into the mirror. “I know you speak English, why didn’t you say anything?”

Saga’s reply was a raspberry and another vanishing act.

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Little schadenfreude. Is that a noun? I think it’s a noun.” She twisted in the seat to look out the rear window. A truck—what kind she didn’t know, but she got the impression it should have been in a movie from the 1980s—tailed her. “Well, they don’t look like they’re after you, so…” As soon as she could, she pulled over to the side to let them pass.

The drivers slowed a bit. Breath coming faster, Amanda felt along her thigh for her holster. But, they were just slowing to jeer and yell. She smiled and waved them by. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure your comments are very witty. Jerks.”

When they were out of sight around an uphill bend, Amanda shouldered the door open. “Alright, come on, we’re making another switch.”

Saga made rather pitiful whining noises.

“Come on, I would prefer not to wait for someone to start shooting at us before going off road.” She nudged the worn car tire and what was left of the rim. “Not that this thing would hold together long enough for proper off-roading…” Sighing, she wrapped her arms around the squirming bundle and hefted her out of the car. She nearly stumbled back and down a rocky hill. She swallowed. “Probably not the best place for this.”

Amanda dropped to her knees and set the bundle on the ground. The girl kept tugging the blanket over her face. Amanda cupped the blanket beneath the girl’s cheeks. “I know you don’t like it, but we have to keep moving. Maybe one of these days my abilities will make an RV turn up, but for now, we have to deal with the hand that’s dealt.” She looked over her shoulder, down the rocky hill, to the ocean. “And right now, that hand is a fishing boat. It’s just around the corner there, I can sense it. And…” Gently, she pulled some of the blanket from the girl’s face. “…you can see the people coming, can’t you?”

Saga rubbed at her eyes and said something.

Amanda frowned. “Okay, I think I got that one…they aren’t going away?”

Eyes closed, Saga nodded.

“Well then, let’s make them go away.” She planted a kiss on Saga’s forehead. Walking to the back of the car, she muttered, “I can’t believe that people would be willing to kill this kid because of some crackpot theory.”

Once she’d prepped the car for what she was planning on doing, she sighed. She was doing that a lot lately, she noticed. Both wrecking vehicles and sighing…

“Start heading down, I’ll meet you later. Oh, wait!” She pulled a woven hand bag out of the car. “Don’t forget this.”

Eyes wide, Saga snatched it and hugged it to her chest, struggling to do that as well as keep the blanket wrapped around her. The girl ducked her head and started heading down the hill.

After making sure no footprints were left, she waved. “See you at the next port.” The captain of the little fishing boat was a good man; he wouldn’t turn Saga away. She could sense his conviction all the way from here. Plus, judging by the man’s passive aura, he knew people that could help the girl. People far more strange and gifted than herself.

Amanda got back into the car. Foot planted on the gas pedal, she went down the road. The first few turns weren’t bad. She snorted. “This rust bucket can’t accelerate worth a darn.” It eventually got up to a speed she wanted it at; dangerous, tilting, careening. But the drop to her left wasn’t satisfactory. “A little steeper would be perfect. Actually, a continent away would be perfect, I don’t want her to see this, but the world isn’t perfect…”

The side of the car scraped against the railing. Sucking in a breath, Amanda flexed her fingers on the wheel. “Okay, here we go.” She dropped her hands and kept her foot on the gas. The car spun out almost immediately. It was probably insanity, trying the same trick five times, but maybe they’d believe it this time if they found bodies. Hopefully the guise she’d cast over the dead pig lasted long enough to fool them…

It was a gamble, but if she could bring herself back from gunshot wounds and fire, she could bring herself back from a car wreck…right?

With a screech and a crack, the car flew over the edge of the cliff. Panic crawled up from her stomach. “Maybe—”

The top of the car smashed against the rocks. It rolled, crimping the doors shut. It kept rolling. She kept her foot on the gas. The engine spat and plumed.

There wasn’t as much smoke as she’d been expecting. But it hurt…very, very badly…

Head on the wheel, barely aware of anything, she muttered, “See you at the next port.”