“Fuck this,” DePresti said. He slammed on the accelerator and the car shot forward, narrowly missing a minivan traveling north on California Street towards the airport.
This was it. They were going to die.
Despite her terror, Parkowski looked back. The two SUVs were running the red light as well.
But then they got a stroke of luck.
A large truck, not quite a tractor-trailer, but still huge, barreled down the road towards the intersection.
It tried to stop but the huge vehicle, probably laden with cargo bound for the airport, slammed into the lead SUV — the same one that had shot at them moments before. It struck the Chevy just behind the passenger’s side rear door, tipping it up on its side as it slid across the pavement with a sickening metal screech. Parkowski heard the sound clearly from their vehicle a hundred feet away.
The second SUV tried to stop but it collided with the truck too. Its front crumpled and the car came to a halt.
“Looks like we lost them,” Parkowski said.
“For now,” DePresti added as he sped up to get on the freeway. “Grace, go back and see how much damage there is.”
She unbuckled and climbed to the back seat. At least ten bullets had struck the car, most of which went through the window, through the car’s interior, and through the floor. Parkowski looked out the window — all of the tires looked ok — and then through the tiny holes in the car’s floor. It didn’t look like any of the lines had been hit.
“I think we’re good,” she said as she slid back into her seat. “They didn’t hit anything vital.”
“I guess we won that one,” DePresti said as he changed lanes. “So, are you good with my plan?”
Parkowski nodded.
They continued east on the 105 in relative silence.
Parkowski tried again to digest everything that had happened.
They had been shot at, not once, but twice. Dr. Pham had been murdered — in cold blood — just feet from where she had stood. They were now on the run, a decision she initially questioned, but after the short chase and gunfire, wholeheartedly supported.
She tried to talk to DePresti, the silence killing her slowly, but he seemingly wanted to focus on the road. Parkowski didn’t blame him one bit, though it would have been nice to have someone to talk to.
The traffic started to pick up as they hit the beginning of the evening rush hour.
She also kept an eye out for any other cars trailing them, but didn’t see any.
The Aering engineer was able to start a conversation with DePresti once they got off the 105 and onto I-605 going northeast around the city of Los Angeles proper.
“What’s a cover story?” she asked DePresti.
“It’s basically a lie,” he answered. “A sanctioned lie, covering up some information or technology with a sanitized version. They’re very common in the IC and the classified military world.”
It seemed like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. Parkowski decided to move the conversation along. “Dr. Pham said that Bronze Knot was a cover story.”
“I heard that too,” DePresti said, “and I was kind of confused by that.”
“What confused you?”
“Because a special access program usually has a cover story to protect it from people who aren’t read in,” the Space Force captain told his girlfriend. “Dr. Pham said that Bronze Knot
“So was it a mistake?”
DePresti shrugged. “Maybe? Maybe not? I don’t know, Grace, I really don’t. I just want to get to Barstow.”
“Do you know how to get there?” she asked.
“To Barstow? Yes. To Chang’s house? No,” DePresti answered. “I know he’s north of the city, up in the hills somewhere. I figured we’d stop at a gas station in that area and ask if they knew a crazy Asian guy living off the grid.”
Parkowski chuckled. “I guess that’s a better plan than nothing.”
“Well, it’s the one we have right now.”
They continued northeast, the traffic getting heavier and heavier, eventually switching over and traveling due east on Interstate 210. Parkowski kept looking for a new tail, but it never came.
The Subaru passed through the eastern part of Los Angeles County before crossing over into San Bernardino County.
As they traveled away from the ocean, the terrain outside transitioned from green to brown. The wooded Angeles National Forest out their driver’s side windows gave way to the shrub and brush of Mt. Baldy and Timber Mountain.
Parkowski had never made it this far northeast of the South Bay area; she had driven in from the East Coast through Orange County. While it was still a pretty area, she would have preferred some more foliage.
At least her clothes were drying in the dry air.
As they passed north of Ontario, she started to doze off.
“Hey, Grace, are you still checking behind us?” her boyfriend said, jerking her awake?
“Wha—” she asked, sitting up in her seat and rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I think they found us again.”
“What?” she said as she turned around.
