No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

“Yeah, well, I lied.”
THWUMP-THWUMP. Two pounding impacts on the wall
above them, and something slashed Darby’s cheek. Like a bee
sting, then a rush of warm blood. She ducked low and
sheltered Jay from more ricochets, shielding her body with her
own. She saw tears in the girl’s eyes.
“No. No, Jay. It’s fine. Don’t cry—”
THWUMP. A nail slapped wetly into Ed Schaeffer’s
shoulder, twisting his body in a rictus of floppy horror, and Jay
screamed.
Darby held the girl close, ignoring the gash on her cheek,
stroking Jay’s dark hair, trying desperately to hold it together:
Oh, Jesus, this is it. This is the last ounce of stress she can
take. I’m going to watch helplessly as she locks up and dies—
—
“Please, don’t cry, Jay.”
She sobbed louder, hyperventilating, fighting Darby’s grip
“Please, just trust me—”
THWUMP. A nail thudded off a cabinet, peppering them
with wood chips.
“Jay, listen to me. The police are coming,” she said. “They
got held up, but they’re still coming. They’ll check every rest
stop on this highway, especially the one with an almostidentical
name. They’ll save us. Just a few more minutes,
okay? Can you last a few more minutes?”
Just words. All of it, just words.
Jay kept sobbing, her eyes clenched, building to another
bracing scream, as — THWUMP — the cash register tipped,
crashing down beside them, keypad buttons skittering across
the tile like loose teeth.
Darby held the seven-year-old close amid all the violence,
shielding her face from shrapnel, trying to soothe her panic.
She was certain it was over — that Jay’s nervous system