Chapter 3: Escalation

Suddenly, something happened I hadn’t expected. A city bus hissed to a stop nearby, headlights flooding the chaos. The man bolted onto the bus, then reappeared, gripping a bright red emergency window hammer. The cord was snapped. He’d ripped it right off. The bus driver’s eyes went wide as he saw the scene, but when he realized the danger, he backed off, hurrying back to his bus and driving away.

The man charged back, climbed onto my hood, and slammed the hammer against the windshield. With a huge bang, the glass shattered instantly.

I watched in despair as my last protection vanished. The man yanked up the windshield. The woman scrambled onto the hood, grabbing at my hair and face, shrieking, “I’ll kill you! I’ll avenge my child!”

He kicked me in the chest. I clung to the gear lever, knowing if I didn’t run now, I’d be beaten to death. I could only move my left leg. My right was useless. I rested my left foot on my broken right, fighting through the agony to step on the brake and shift to drive. Each jolt of pain nearly made me black out.

The car lurched forward. The woman tumbled off the hood as it moved, but the man hesitated, still standing above me. The woman collapsed, wailing, “He’s going to run over our child again!”

Her words pushed him over the edge. Instead of jumping off, he climbed into the car through the smashed windshield, grabbed my head, and blocked my sight, biting down hard on my ear.

The pain was excruciating. I felt my ear tear, bit by bit. But I didn’t dare move—I couldn’t see, couldn’t drive. If I floored it blind, who knew how many more people I’d hit?

Even as he attacked, I gritted my teeth, kept my foot on the brake, and shifted to park. I shouted, desperate, “It was your wife who left the child in the street!”

He didn’t hear—his eyes were wild, his face twisted in rage. If I survived this, he’d never let it go.

Suddenly, he bit down hard, and I felt my ear rip away. Still not satisfied, he bit my face. In a panic, I slammed my head back into his mouth and nose. He recoiled, blood pouring from his nose, and in that instant, I saw my chance.

Reverse. My backup camera flickered on. I could see behind me. But a car was blocking the way. The driver behind hadn’t noticed the chaos. I honked, begging him to move, but he just rolled down his window and cursed, “Are you blind? Can’t you see my car’s here?”

Before he finished, my bumper hit him. The man attacking me was thrown off the car. The driver behind realized something was very wrong. He jumped out, took one look, and bolted to the sidewalk, abandoning his car in the road, blocking my escape.

I shifted gears. With the man off, nothing blocked my view. But then the woman sat down in front of my car, sobbing, “You killed my child, now run me over too!”

Panic seized me. Someone in front, a car behind. I was trapped.

I rolled down the window and yelled, “Move your car!” The driver behind, not knowing what was happening, jabbed a finger at me, yelling, “You animal, you hit someone and want to run? Just wait for the cops!”

No time to explain. The man was getting up, glaring at me, blood streaming down his face. He hesitated—maybe afraid I’d really floor it if he got on again. But then he did something I never expected.

He smashed my rear window with the emergency hammer. Glass rained down. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a shiny ZIPPO, flicked it open, and tossed it into my car. “I’ll burn you alive!” he spat.

Acrid smoke filled my lungs, burning my throat. My eyes stung, tearing up as the heat pressed in. I tried to open the door, but he kicked it shut again. Even if I crawled out the front, he’d shove me back. The woman, seeing what he’d done, scrambled away.

Flames rose, licking at my skin. The driver behind finally realized things were out of control. His face drained of color. “This has nothing to do with me!” he stammered, then ran, leaving me behind.