I took a deep breath as I began to get closer to Corky and prepared myself to cross District Boulevard.
There was an inkling in my mind that the street could be used to my advantage, but I couldn't remember why. Still, as I tried to remember, I finally achieved enough velocity to reach the Thunderbird again. As we crossed District Boulevard, I pulled the same trick he had done before, hoping he would follow. I made a one-eighty turn and drove back into the street.
When I heard the harsh turn made by the other car behind me, I smiled, knowing he was following my plan to a T.
"What was the thing on District Boulevard?" I tried to remember as we both drag-raced through the streets, circumventing the few cars that were on the road.
Thankfully, the street was pretty straight, so I had time to think before it went into any curves, which I knew were coming at some point.
Corky tried to bump me several times as we reached stretches of alone time, but I avoided the hits every time by slowing down or speeding up. I knew it was starting to annoy him as he began to zig-zag again, trying to attract me into one of his little games, but the road was ample, and I was not going to fall for it again, so I kept the car on the right lane as much as I could.
We approached a soft turn, and we passed a large store that, under the subtle lights of the street, I managed to see had letters that spelled "TAG TIME" on its walls.
I then began to slowly remember the attributes that this street had. As we turned, I noticed the emptiness behind the buildings and recalled that this street was right next to the L.A river. I knew I could take advantage of that somehow.
Then, all of a sudden, I felt a hard bump on my right and saw the Thunderbird drive away and quickly come closer, hitting us again.
Zack shouted in pain and grabbed his arm.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Yeah, I just hit myself on the door, that's all."
Then the Thunderbird struck again, and I quickly moved to the side to avoid the hit. But I didn't notice the little signs before the railroad crossroad sign in the middle of the street. We accidentally crashed into one, stepping into its little sidewalk and peeling it right off, causing the whole car to shake violently.
"Oh, shit!" Zack exclaimed as I quickly turned right before hitting the rail sign.
I could feel Corky laughing at our misfortune, and, upset, I looked to my side and saw him drive away. Then, still, with the little thing vibrating under the car, I pressed the gas, finally releasing it after a few miles.
"Think, you dumb bitch!" I screamed inside my head. "What was the whole thing with this street and the river?"
As we kept passing by all the empty and beautiful mid-century buildings on the street, I ran through all the ideas we had come up with while driving around all those afternoons, trying to remember the one related to this street.
As we got close to South Atlantic Boulevard, I laid my eyes on this large, white, illuminated building with large red letters that talked about clothing and fashion. And finally, a possible solution came to mind.
I smiled.
I had practiced a car trick in my mind many times. Although it could be a dangerous move, there was a chance of finishing the reign of chaos this evil spirit had brought to the city.
"Okay, I got it," I told Zack as the lights turned red in the distance. "I know what we can do."
"What?!" Zack shouted, worried. "What are you talking about?!"
"I'm finishing this," I affirmed, sure of it.
"How?" Zack asked.
"You'll have to trust me," I said.
Zack nodded, still afraid, as I grabbed and squeezed his hand.
Then both of our cars, the two relics racing down the street, crossed South Atlantic Boulevard while the traffic lights were red as blood. I heard the screech of the tires of the incoming cars, but I had to let it go as I knew the train crossing would show up in front of me at any second, and I had to be prepared to do my little trick.
As soon as I saw the shadow of the tracks, I hit the pedal to the metal and passed the Thunderbird.
And then I did it.
I saw my whole world spin around in a matter of seconds as I released the handbrake from the car and did a hard turn to the left. I heard Zack cursing loudly, and the wheels of my father's car screeched like they were burning, but soon enough, I found myself finally in the position I wanted.
I heard Zack gag a bit and muffled the sound with his hand, but the only thing I cared about right at that moment was the shocked, bright eyes of this killer, looking right into my own.
Corky was indignant; I could see it in his dark face, even with the headlights right in front of me. I had done it. I had pulled the turn, and now the car was driving through the road backward, with the Thunderbird following behind.
Corky tried to move away from me, but every time he moved, I shifted as well, not letting him see the road in front of us. Even with the harsh light on my face, I was not going to let this son of a gun escape.
"Zack!" I yelled, turning my own headlights all the way up. "I can't see the road! You need to be my eyes!"
Zack obeyed and turned his body around to look at the street before us. I asked him if any cars were coming, and he told me no, so I ordered him to stay like that and tell me how the road was while I kept trying to stop Delaney from passing me. I could feel the sweat forming inside my gloves, but I was too excited to care.
This was it. I finally knew what I was doing, and I knew how it would end.
"Car on the right!" Zack suddenly shouted, and both Corky and I turned left to avoid it.
A few miles later, another car came, and we moved again together. We were one unit now, flying through the dark road. At least I tried to keep it that way, keeping the two cars pressed to each other like two magnets. Corky knew something had to be coming as he began to slow down and speed up, bumping the front of the Mustang hard.
"He could break the grill," I thought, a bit worried. But then I pressed my lips and sighed, resigned.
"To hell with it. He's not escaping this one."
Then Zack told me something that I was waiting to hear. The last point of the plan.
"I can see a turn in the distance! And little lights!" Zack shouted. "The road is about to end!"
"Okay, tell me when to turn!" I shouted, moving my hand to the handbrake. I had to be prepared to pull the stunt twice, hoping it would be as effective as before.
"What?!" Zack asked me, hysterical.
"Just tell me!" I yelled.
As we approached the breaking point, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
It was just a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
"Now!" Zack screamed, and for one last time, I pulled the handbrake up and turned, this time to the right.
As I opened my eyes, while the Mustang did the same hard screeching turn, I saw, like in a slow-motion movie, how the dark shape of the black car continued its way and abruptly found itself against the turn signal barriers that stood in front, crashing against them.
The vehicle dragged the signals as the speed made the metal demon fly over the metallic gate, like a cat escaping a predator. Then, before the Mustang got out of control and finally hit a wooden electric pole with its back, I saw Corky and his car crash against the side of the Slauson Avenue bridge, the headlights going off in a crushing bang.
Then, all went black.
I don't know how many minutes Zack and I spent inside the Mustang, but when we woke up, I could hear a commotion forming outside the car.
When I finally opened my eyes, I saw a group of people looking at us from the outside and many lights. I slowly moved my head to the side, trying to see if Zack was okay. Even though everything hurt, I had to make sure he was alright.
As my eyes finally reached his side, I sighed in relief as I saw his body slowly moving on the passenger chair, with no visible injuries in his body.
After a few minutes, the door opened, and a young man in what looked like a firefighter's suit released Zack from his seat and began pulling him out of the car. I tried to thank him as he finally took him away, but my words barely came out.
I looked in front of me, noticing there was dark liquid on the steering wheel. I prayed it was blood and not oil, and I began patting myself until I touched my face, and the liquid showed up on my gloves. I had hit my nose pretty hard, and even though I could tell it was not broken, I hurt like hell.
An older man appeared on my side of the car and opened the door. He then picked me up and took me from the car into a nearby ambulance.
About ten minutes later, Zack and I sat at the edge of the open ambulance after being looked at by paramedics.
I glanced at the Mustang and smiled. Even though it had hit the pole pretty hard and the tail didn't look good, my father's mechanical baby was still alright. That big gal could sure take a hit. Still, I was sure that my father would forgive me for that little impasse when he saw what I had caught for him.
The cops that arrived at the site interrogated us and, after realizing what we had done, asked for our parents' numbers and left to call them and notify the department of what had happened.
A few minutes later, the first parent to arrive at the scene was Mr. Vinton.
"My boy!" Zack's dad shouted as he ran to hug his son. After a tight, long hug, he looked at us and asked in a terrified voice what the hell we thought we were doing.
Zack pointed at the river and told his dad that he had fought the man who had destroyed his shop and had sent him back to hell.
"What?" Mr. Vinton asked, upset and confused.
"We got him, Dad. Come and see," Zack said as he stood up and began waving at his father to follow him.
"Just go, Mr. Vinton. It's a surprise I think you are going to like," I said, trying to smile, but then stopped because of the pain in my nose.
Zack then led his father to the turn site, where firefighters were trying to pull the car from the bottom of the empty river. I then waited for my own parents to arrive, amazed by what we had done.
"It seems Lola's rabbit did bring us good luck in the end," I thought, remembering I still had to take it out of the glove compartment.
As I expected, my parents finally arrived, and my father exploded in hysterics when he saw his favorite car all beaten up. On the other hand, Mom ran to see me and hugged me as Mr. Vinton had done with Zack. I smiled as she pulled away and told her not to worry; I had just bashed my nose.
"What the hell did you do to my car!?" Dad shouted. He wasn't so mad, as he was appalled by what I had done.
"I did what had to be done, Dad," I told him. "I wouldn't have caught it if it wasn't for the Mustang."
"Caught what, honey?" Mom asked as she caressed my hair.
"Does it matter?" Dad asked, horrified. "The car is ruined!"
"The car is fine," I said. "It could have been way worse, but most things went according to plan."
"What the hell are you talking about?!" Dad asked, starting to get upset.
I raised my hands, trying to calm down the situation, and told them everything would be okay; they just had to follow me, and I would show them what I was referring to.
"Come, let me show you both," I said, waving at them. "Zack and Mr. Vinton are already looking at it."
"This better be good," Dad said, his voice rising out of exasperation.
So I led both my parents, still confused, nervous, and angry, to the edge of the road. As we arrived at the site of the incident, I walked along the cement barriers, passed many spectators, and reached the side where Mr. Vinton and Zack were looking while firefighters climbed down to the river's bottom to look at the state of the other car, which now lay on its back.
Dad called Mr. Vinton and shook his hand. Then, Mom greeted him with a handshake. Both began to inquire about the situation, and Mr. Vinton pointed at them to look down. We all did, and we saw what the rescue team was doing.
They were putting out a small fire and looking for injured people.
"Oh my god!" My mother gasped in shock when she noticed the car, looking at my father. "It can't be!"
"Is that the Thunderbird?" Dad asked, turning to me. I looked at him and nodded, to which my father's horror turned into a confused but happy gasp.
"Is there someone in it?" Mr. Vinton asked.
"Hopefully not anymore," I said, which made the men frown in confusion.
After a few minutes of looking, the firemen indicated nobody was inside the car. Our parents looked at us worried, probably thinking the killer had escaped, but after a few seconds of staring at the car, trying to sense the same eerie feeling I had gotten out of it for so long, and checking with Zack, I turned to them and smiled.
"I don't think he's coming back," I said.
"This car is clean," Zack joked, pretending to be the petite lady from that movie about poltergeists.
Dad shook his head at the joke, but the small smile that formed on his face told me that, for the first time, he believed us.
"I just hope you can fix it now," I told Dad and Mr. Vinton.
"We hope so, too," Dad chuckled, patting Mr. Vinton on the back in victory.
"You can thank me later," I thought, smiling at the two men whose lives we had given a second chance.
Then I walked to Zack, who was also holding his blanket, and nudged him, smiling widely, even with the pain in my nose. He looked at me and grinned back, stretching his hand to touch my nose. I laughed, flinching backward.
"Does it hurt badly?" He asked, and I nodded.
"Pretty bad," I said. "But I'll be okay."
"So, that means I can't kiss you now?" He asked shyly, and I could see his cheek turn pink, even under the dim light.
I chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. He gave a little whine and began laughing, to which I joined seconds later. After laughing, I stared at him momentarily and finally leaned in for a small but triumphant kiss.