Final Masquerade by Cindy Davis

dark in color and another SUV type."
    "You think it's them?"
    "I don't know. Could be coincidence. There're lots of cars on the road that travel long distances. Sometimes we're together so long, we sort of watch for each other, get kind of familiar with each other's driving habits. I see a change in their driving and can tell if they're getting tired. Sometimes the CB helps. No sense taking any chances.” They drove in nervous silence for a few miles. “They're moving up on us now, one in each lane.” Chris handled the wheel grimly as he divided his attention between the highway in front and the two vehicles, which were now on the rear bumper of the trailer.
    The Suburban veered from its position of last in line until it was beside Chris’ door. It held steady there. His window glided down silently and Chris leaned his head down trying to see inside the Suburban.
    "Don't do that, they might have guns."
    "Shit.” He let off the throttle. “One female driver is all. I can't tell anything much besides that."
    "Maybe it's the woman from the truck stop. What's she wearing?"
    He let his eyes rove downward. “Can't tell. Er, now she's waving."
    "Like to say ‘hello’ or ‘stop you have a flat tire'?"
    "Flat tire."
    "Do you have one?"
    "No."
    "How do you know without stopping?"
    "I know."
    "Well, maybe the trailer door is open."
    "It's not."
    "I don't know how you can be so sure without checking,” she muttered. “Where's the other car?"
    "Just behind us. Can you see it in your mirror?"
    "No."
    "Now, this one's flashing her lights. Sure lady, I'll stop so you can kill us or hold us till your associates show up. No freaking way that's going to happen.” Chris jerked the steering wheel to the left, mashing the right side of the Suburban with a crunch that sounded to Paige like someone stepping on a whole bag of potato chips. She winced and found something to hold onto. This was shaping up to be like the ride she took with Habib.
    After the collision, the Suburban held steady in the lane for several seconds, seconds that seemed like an eternity as the driver fought to keep the vehicle straight.
    There was a hollow popping sound as the right front tire exploded. The Suburban bounced like some huge white beach ball, turned over, and rolled on its side, then almost instantly, rolled once more back onto its wheels. It landed in the driving lane directly in the path of the black SUV, whose tires squealed as the driver attempted to keep the vehicle from crashing into the Suburban.
    Paige undid her belt and leaned across to see out Chris’ side mirror. The SUV hit the Suburban. The rear window popped out and shot into the air, flipping over and over like a giant Frisbee. Then it thudded to the pavement, bouncing several times before finally stopping in the median. One of the vehicles exploded in a ball of orange and yellow. Paige couldn't tell which one.
    Chris slowed the truck so he could watch in his mirror. His voice came like that of a football broadcaster at the beginning of a drive. “The black one ran into the white one. One of them exploded. A woman jumped out of the car. Another person is beside her. Someone stopped to help them."
    He upshifted and then announced in a self-congratulatory voice, “I guess that'll put them out of commission for a while."
    Paige sat back in her seat and buckled up. The smell of fear hovered around them like smog. She unclenched her aching fingers from the armrests and flexed them. Her knuckles glowed white in the darkness of the cab. She dropped them to her lap and rotated her head to placate her protesting neck muscles.
    The roar of the tractor's motor lowered several octaves as they stopped at the bottom of the next ramp.
    "Which way are we going?"
    "Right, takes us to the west side of Fort Smith."
    "Are we still in Arkansas?"
    Chris erupted in a deep-throated chuckle that Paige figured was more a release of tension than a reaction to her ridiculous question. “Yes. There's a station I