The impact rocked Luke in his seat—Johan, too, who struggled to keep control. The Mustang’s back end slewed left and right. Smoke rippled from the wheel arches. Suddenly he was gone, straying off-road in a thick pall of dust. He hit a low bank and floated airborne for two seconds, then touched down with a crunch that popped the passenger door open.

He didn’t stop—couldn’t risk giving Luke the speed and force. The Mustang dug at the dirt, sliding wildly, then regained its wheels and boomed across the desert.

Luke hit the same bank. He was airborne for longer, and touched down harder.

He didn’t stop, either.

It was slower over the desert’s uneven surface, bouncing over small rocks and tearing through creosote bushes. Luke followed the Mustang’s single taillight as Johan steered around outcrops and ragged trees. The Caliber clonked and protested. Luke felt the desert floor through the steering wheel, through the seat. His head thumped off the roof numerous times. The dashboard lights flickered.

Johan hit the brakes, drifted one-eighty, then churned at the dirt and got moving again. Luke was right behind him. He turned a broader circle but maintained a higher speed. Smoke had started to leak from under the hood. Something was broken under there. This had to end soon.

He swept into the Mustang’s driver’s side again, hard enough to ripple the A-pillar and knock the glass out of the window. Johan’s blond hair flew wildly. He yanked the wheel and clobbered into Luke. Their fenders met in a spray of sparks. They parted to steer around a cluster of boulders, then came together again. The impact threw Luke sideways and his head banged off the window. For a moment everything dulled, then he thought of Kitty on the backseat—of everything that would happen to her—and the edges came back hard and sharp.

He touched the brake, allowing Johan to pull ahead, then jerked the wheel and nudged his back end. The Mustang whipped this way and that, slowed to twenty, then spun out. It turned three dusty circles before coming to a stop, engine grumbling.

Luke looped around quickly, his rear tires sliding. He looked at the Mustang, bathed in its own flickering light. It started forward again, trembling on its shocks. Scrub crowded the wheel arches. There was another sprig caught beneath the windshield wiper. Luke jumped on the accelerator, aiming his front end at the dented driver’s door. He intended to hit it so hard that he would knock Johan’s skeleton right out of his skin.

The Caliber jumped forward, sluggish at first but picking up speed. Luke flexed his hands on the wheel and braced himself.

In all the dust, pain, and frenzy, he didn’t notice the Tundra’s headlights until they were on top of him.