Bitch: Puncture (book 2)

We crested a small grassy hill as we came up out of the ravine. Arlene and I breathed a sigh of relief at the welcome sight of land again on both sides of the road. Arlene held her hand against the slash on Natalie’s shoulder.

“Here hold it.” Arlene rummaged around and found a t-shirt that she ripped into a strip and wound it around Natalie’s shoulder.

I couldn’t help glancing behind us. But I still saw nothing. We bumped back onto the pavement and back into farm country. We rounded another small knoll and drove into the little town of Mercury, Idaho.

“Natalie are you okay honey? Natalie?!?”

The car began to veer across the road, and I was thrown sideways as the wheel was yanked back. The blare of a horn as an angry driver signaled her disapproval out her window. Cut off sharply when she saw the damage to the vehicle. I saw her arm go limp and a look of shock on her face. I finally, noticed the whistle of the wind and looked up at the partially opened roof.

Arlene was leaning over from seat steering and was trying to talk to Natalie, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.

I hopped back up to the rear seat. Natalie’s head was rolling slightly. I could see Arlene struggling to get Natalie’s foot off the accelerator and out of the way for the brake. She unsnapped her belt and finally forced her out of the way. She stomped on the clutch and pulled it out of gear. We slow-motion rolled to a stop on a street lined with cars. The streets were empty. We were still two blocks at least from the fair grounds and I could hear the announcer saying something. It always amazed me how loud and at the exact same time, incoherent a public address system could be. The echoes were playing tricks on my ears. The first words were running into the later words and cancelling them out.

I smelled fresh blood, Natalie’s blood.

“Natalie, oh dear. That monster got her in the side. Here honey you hold right here as hard as you can.” Arlene couldn’t get into the seat, because there was a thick Japanese sword coated with blood sticking through the drivers side door. So she opened the passenger door and ran around and began slowly wrenching the sword free. She hefted it, shook her head and tossed it into the back seat with me.

“Alright honey we need to get you to the hospital. Where is that from here?” Arlene was trying to maneuver Natalie into the passenger seat.

“Fair,” whispered Natalie.

“No honey we need to get you medical attention.” Arlene watched her worriedly.

“Doctor at fair. Go...” Natalie pointed weakly.

“Got it. Hold tight.” Arlene clunked it into first and popped the clutch. The tires screeched and we jerked forward. She turned left at the next street but this street had cones up and signs saying road closed. There was a milling mass of people around the food trucks about 500 feet ahead and a ticket booth, but most of the people were already in the small wooden grandstands or just sitting on the small hill on the right in a colorful array of lawn chairs and old blankets.

Just to the left of the ticket booth was a corral gate that led out onto the rodeo ring. Large combine tractors that had seen better days revved and circled each other in a demolition derby. Each of the massive tractors looking for a way to clip another tractor while protecting the engine on the back.

Arlene took one look at the ashen face of Natalie and made up her mind. She hit the horn and didn’t let off. Right over the cones and through one of the signs. People looked startled, but when she didn’t veer off or slow they grabbed their children and dumped over the ticket table to get out of the way. There was a row of hay bales in front of the gate. And the front tire popped up hard when she hit them. She hit the gate going all of 10 miles per hour, but it cracked satisfyingly as the front axle landed on top of the gate.. She romped on the accelerator and the rear wheels began to throw up a muddy fantail.

The announcer came on again and I couldn’t hear what he was saying over the spinning tires and the revving engine. Finally the back tires pushed enough of the weight onto the top of the fence and it gave way dropping our nose back down and high centering us on the gate. The stench of the burnt rubber was overwhelming. And a choking cloud of white smoke filled the vehicle for a moment.

Arlene shut off the motor. It was quiet. Then she blasted the horn.

Several people showed up. Some race official, some farmers and the local sheriff all arrived at about the same moment.

The sheriff yelled, “Ya’ll shut up. Ma’am care to explain what the holy hell you think are doing?”

Arlene sniffed, “Does it look like everything is alright to you? Call the doctor! This young woman was stabbed and she needs medical attention immediately.”

The sheriff glanced over eyebrows climbing his forehead, and grabbed his walkie.