“What was that one?” I ask, referring to the nightmare we just escaped.

“A new wreck,” Harper says, voice flat.

Traffic inches along, and we are just one more piece of the mess. We start and stop. Start and stop. It takes us twenty minutes to reach the exit, and, by the time we do, my insides are squirming miserably.

Brecken stops at the end of the ramp, and my stomach sloshes, a flash of heat rolling through me. Saliva gathers in my mouth. I sit up, the reality of the situation hitting me. I’m more than nauseated. I might vomit. I fist my hands, swallowing hard and trying to breathe.

It’s so hot in here. Hot air blasts from every vent, and my armpits feel damp inside my coat. My neck is on fire, and I can feel a bead of sweat drip between my shoulder blades.

“Can we turn down the heat a little?” I croak out.

Brecken complies, and then the light turns green. We lurch forward and make a left and my stomach rolls dangerously. A short moan escapes me.

“What’s wrong?” Josh asks.

“I feel sick,” I say. “Really sick.”

“Don’t puke in here,” Brecken says.

“You’re sick?” Josh asks, looking deeply concerned. “Is it bad?”

“I need to get out of this car. It’s really hot. I think that’s making it worse.”

“Are you going to puke?” Harper asks. “Do you want to stop?”

“I’m not going to puke,” I say, though the chances are reasonable I might.

Brecken slows, and I’m sure it’s a conscious effort, but really, I think it might be too late. Waves of fire are running up my neck and face. I unzip my coat, and then struggle to take it off altogether. Josh hooks a hand in the cuff of my sleeve, helping me tug my arm free.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Let’s get you some fresh air,” he says, rolling down his window a crack.

His sudden concern is a surprise, but the air that enters the car is the most delicious thing that’s ever passed my lips, so I don’t care. I drink in greedy gulps of it, my eyes closed and head throbbing in time with the misery of my stomach.

“We need to stop,” Harper says. “She needs a break.”

“I know she does. I’m watching her,” Brecken says.

“Hang in there,” Harper tells me.

I don’t answer because all of my energy is focused on not getting sick. The crisp air is helping immensely, but I still need out of this car.

“Let’s get to a gas station,” Brecken says. “We can call a tow truck.”

“Something tells me the mess on the bridge will have half the tow trucks in Pennsylvania tied up,” Josh says.

“We have to try,” Harper says. “I’m calling the car rental company.”