The first order of business was ditching the car. We drove a few exits down on the interstate to a rest area, where we stole a Volkswagen Beetle. We left them the BMW. We even moved their luggage and CDs over into the Beamer. I figured it was a fair trade.
With a less flashy car, we switched off driving as we drove down Interstate 81. I drove for hours, until we were somewhere in Virginia. Then Jason took over. While we drove, we played road games to pass the time, finding the alphabet on road signs, trying to spot license plates from all fifty states. We were bored, and there were places that we drove through where we could barely get any radio stations besides country or gospel music.
Jason drove faster than I did. I glanced at the speedometer once, and we were going nearly ninety miles an hour. We were flying past all the other cars around us.
“Jason?” I asked. “Is it wise to be driving so fast in a stolen car?”
The words weren’t out of my mouth before there were immediately sirens and flashing lights behind us. A police car.
Jason glared at me. “You jinxed me,” he said, speeding up.
“What are you doing?” I demanded. “You’re not going to pull over?”
“Azazel, we’re in a stolen car, and we’ve got guns on us. I’m not pulling over.”
“Good point,” I said, gripping my seat in terror as we got even faster. “So what are you gonna do?”
“Lose him,” said Jason. He jerked the car into the right lane, right between two other cars. The police car slowed down, trying to get into the same lane as we were in.
Jason took an exit, racing the car down the deceleration ramp. Unfortunately, the cop had managed to take the exit too and was right behind us.
Jason weaved in and out of traffic, but the cop kept up. We ran a stoplight, nearly causing a head on collision. Somehow, the cop made it through the intersection as well.
We’d exited into a suburban area. The landscape was dotted with restaurants and chain stores. Ahead of us loomed a huge sign for a mall. Jason slammed on the brakes and turned into the mall, fishtailing as he barely made the turn.
I was going to be sick.
The cop wasn’t as lucky as us. He missed the turn but screeched to a stop. He had to back up to make the turn.
We lurched forward, rounding a corner. For the first time, we were out of sight of the police car, even it was only for a few minutes.
Jason didn’t waste any time. He drove the VW straight up to the entrance of the mall and threw open his door.
We hurried out of the car. Sprinted into the mall. Immediately lost ourselves in the crowds of shoppers just as the police car pulled up right beside the Beetle.
“Damn it,” I muttered as I watched the police officer get out of his car, run into the mall, and look around frantically.
“What?” asked Jason, tugging me into Bath and Body Works and pretending to be very interested in some scented body lotion.
“We had to leave the clothes,” I said.
Jason rolled his eyes.
“They were very nice clothes,” I said. “They were expensive. I liked those clothes.”
“We’ll get other clothes,” said Jason.
I stuck out my lower lip. “But not those. We’ll never get those clothes back ever again.”