We have several miles of interstate to drive before we hit the hospital exit, and even though we’re driving seventy-five miles per hour, it’s still not fast enough for me. All I can hope for is that Zoe hasn’t had the baby yet. I’ll never forgive myself if I miss the birth of my daughter. I know the guilt missing something like this can cause. I see it every day on John’s face.

“Where you two going?” the man behind the wheel asks.

“To the hospital just a few miles up the road,” Brooklyn answers.

“Everything okay? Either of you hurt?”

“No, we’re fine, Paul. Jake has a baby on the way, and we just happened to be stranded when the bike we were on gave out. You’re really saving us here.”

“Is that right?” he asks, leaning forward to look at me. “Well, congratulations.”

“Thank you.” I look at my watch, counting down the minutes until we reach our exit.

Out of the corner of my eye, something flashes in the passenger side mirror. I look up, leaning forward to get a better view in the mirror. I can clearly see Knox behind the wheel of a Ford F-250, and he’s coming at us full speed.

“We have trouble,” I think out loud.

“What?” Brooklyn asks, turning to look out the back window.

I quickly place my hands on her head and pull it down into my lap while bending down over her. “It’s Knox. There’s no way he could know we’re in this truck unless he sees us.”

“Uh, Paul? Would you mind picking up the speed a bit?” Brooklyn asks.

He nods, eyes flashing up to the rearview mirror. “Are you two in some sort of trouble?”

“You could say that.” My tone of voice is lifeless, not wanting to admit that we have now brought our trouble into this man’s life.

“Don’t worry. I’ll kick it up a notch.” He presses on the gas, causing Brooklyn and me to be thrown back by the force.

After several long seconds of driving faster, I ask, “How’s it looking?”

I see his eyes bounce back up to the mirror. “He’s right on our trail.” He jerks the wheel to the left, throwing us around the cabin of the truck. “He’s got a gun!”

“Fuck. He knows we’re in here.” I sit up and look behind us to see Knox aiming his gun at the truck. I see his windshield shatter, and I duck again, but Paul swerves back into the right-hand lane, causing the bullet to miss us.

“Do you have a gun?” I ask Paul.

“In the glove compartment,” he answers.

With Brooklyn’s head still in my lap, I open the glove compartment and look into to see a gun resting in its holster. I slide my hand in and pull it out, dropping the holster on the floor and turning the safety off.

Before I can turn around to take aim, Knox fires again, this time causing the back glass to break, but the bullet shoots through the cab and into the dash. If Brooklyn was sitting up, it would have gotten her right in the back.

“Brook, get as low as you can to the floor,” I tell her while twisting back again.

She wiggles herself into a ball in the passenger side floorboard, and I get up on my knees in the seat. The back glass is shattered but still attached to the frame. The cracks make it impossible to see through. I use the butt of the gun to hit it with, over and over until slowly it starts falling into the bed of the truck.

With the back glass now gone, wind whips in through the cab with our fast speed, but I can clearly see Knox. I raise the gun, out the back window while using the headrest to block all but my eyes as I aim. It’s like slow motion as I squeeze the trigger. The gun practically explodes as the bullet goes flying from the barrel.

All the target practice I’ve done with John over the years pays off when the bullet hits the spot I was aiming for—the passenger side tire.

The tire explodes and the truck jerks to the right, sending him off the road and right into the guardrail. The impact of the hit causes the front of the truck to crush before it goes flipping over the rail and into the grass where it flips several more times and comes to a stop.

“Stop!” I yell, causing Paul to stomp on the brakes as he jerks the wheel, directing the truck to the side of the road.

When we’ve come to a complete stop, I throw open my door and jump out. “Stay here,” I tell them.

“Wait, Jake!” Brooklyn hops out behind me. “What if he’s okay? He has a gun…he will shoot you as soon as he sees you.”

I shake my head and hug her quickly. “No way he could have made it through that crash. I just want the peace of mind of knowing for sure that he is out of all of our lives.” I press a quick kiss to the top of her head and push her back into the truck. “Wait here,” I tell her again.

I slam the door shut and jog back several feet to the crash site. Several people who saw the crash are now pulled over on the side of the road, phones to their ears as they call 9-1-1.

I run past them and drop to my knees at the side of the car, bending down low to see through the busted window. Knox lies lifelessly on the hood of the upturned car.

I tsk him. “Should’ve worn your seat belt.”

I can clearly see the blood staining the steering wheel and dash on the driver’s side of the car. After an impact like that, I don’t know how he wasn’t thrown out, but I know he has to be messed up with all the blood.

I grab hold of his ankle and pull him from the car and into the grass. Sure, I could be causing more damage by moving him, but do I really care? Nah, I’m willing to take the chance.

I roll him over to his back and look down on him. His face is so bloody that I don’t even recognize him. I place my hand on his wrist and feel for a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there.

How in the hell could he survive something like that? I’m half tempted to pull out that gun and shoot him right here and now, but the audience gathering around the side of the road has me thinking otherwise. I don’t need to go to prison and miss out on the rest of my daughter’s life.

“Fuck,” I grumble under my breath.

Before I can make up my mind on whether or not I should leave him or shoot him, my ears are filled with the sounds of sirens.

The police and the EMTs arrive quickly. While they work on getting him on the stretcher, I talk with the police and tell him exactly who is. I’m not taking a chance on him not going back to prison…a maximum-security prison which is exactly where he’ll go since he’s escaped.

The police thank me for helping to identify him and bring him in, but I have to stop all questions. “Look, I’m more than willing to answer these questions at a later time, but my baby is being born right now. Can you please just follow me to the hospital where we can finish this?”

He nods. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll give you a police escort.” He shakes my hand.

“Thank you,” I tell him, shaking his hand and running back to the truck.

I open the door and jump inside. “We’re getting a police escort.”

“Is Knox…” Brooklyn starts.

“He’s alive,” I ground out, not happy about it. “But the good thing here is that he’s going away for the rest of his life. No more minimum-security prison for him.”

The police car pulls out ahead of us, and Paul follows quickly behind. The sirens are blaring loudly as traffic pulls out of the way for us. We’re at the hospital in minutes.

The moment the truck stops, I’m throwing open the door and Brooklyn and I are rushing inside, praying we’re not too late.