safety.
Lou was sleepy.
So sleepy.
He knew that he should be doing something important, something related to the van, especially since there was a very large truck up ahead that George might not know about, but the darkness overtook him again and he toppled back over and went to sleep.
* * *
George doubted he had time to overpower Ally and then climb into the front of the van so that he could steer them away from what he assumed was certain death, so he continued his attempts to reason with her.
"Ally! Ally! Can you hear me?"
She tried to chomp off his ear.
"Ally, I need you to—!"
George was not entirely certain what happened next, although it definitely involved the van colliding with something very large. It wasn't a head-on collision, because the van began to spin—until it struck something else. All of the windows shattered, filling the back of the van with light as George and Ally tumbled backwards and slammed into the rear door. Ally struck her head; George struck the door with the entire left side of his body.
With a groan, George sat up. At least the van wasn't...no, actually, it was still rolling down the hill.
Through the broken rear window, he could see that their second collision had been with a grey sedan that now had a crumpled front hood. As they rolled further, he saw that the van had originally hit a U-Haul truck. If they'd hit it straight on, he, Lou, and Ally would probably all be dead now, instead of dead a few moments from now.
George prayed that Lou was still alive. He couldn't see any blood up front, but nor could he hear Lou snoring.
Though Ally seemed stunned she remained conscious. George kicked her in the head to try to change that. She tried to bite his foot. He kicked her again.
He glanced up front to make sure the van wasn't seconds away from crashing into another vehicle. They'd rolled into the opposite lane, and the snowplow coming toward them did not give him a warm happy feeling.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Crash
Ally's eyes were still open but she wasn't actively trying to kill George anymore, so he decided that his best move was to focus on stopping the van.
He started to crawl toward the front seats, which is when he discovered just how much his body hurt. Though no bones were broken, as far as he could tell, he knew he'd be covered with grotesque bruises, and the agony from merely crawling the length of a van was almost unbearable. In the morning he'd barely be able to move, if there was a morning for him.
He was also pretty sure he was leaving a trail of blood along the floor, though he didn't look back to verify. He hadn't felt this bad since the last time he dealt with a werewolf.
George made it to the front seats and reached over Lou for the steering wheel. Nope. His arms weren't long enough. He climbed between the seats, noting that the snowplow was trying to change lanes to avoid the van but was not doing so quickly because, after all, it was a snowplow.
Sure, it was pushing a large pile of snow in front of it, but that wouldn't make this a well-cushioned, fluffy impact.
George grabbed the steering wheel and spun it to the right. The tires screeched and the van went off the road and into a driveway, narrowly missing a tree, two snowmen, and a parked car.
The van did hit the other parked car, though.
George felt as if his body were ripped in two at the waist. Fortunately, the seats kept him from hurtling straight into the dashboard and splattering the contents of his skull. Lou rolled off the front seat.
At least the van had stopped now.
George put his hand on Lou's neck. There was still a pulse. Thank God.
And now Ally's snarling had resumed. She was crawling toward him, teeth bared, claws extended.
Tranquilizer gun. He needed the tranquilizer gun.
No, wait, he'd dropped that in the back. He couldn't remember if it was while he was fighting Ally or during one of the crashes, but either way, the gun was inaccessible.
The
Lou was sleepy.
So sleepy.
He knew that he should be doing something important, something related to the van, especially since there was a very large truck up ahead that George might not know about, but the darkness overtook him again and he toppled back over and went to sleep.
* * *
George doubted he had time to overpower Ally and then climb into the front of the van so that he could steer them away from what he assumed was certain death, so he continued his attempts to reason with her.
"Ally! Ally! Can you hear me?"
She tried to chomp off his ear.
"Ally, I need you to—!"
George was not entirely certain what happened next, although it definitely involved the van colliding with something very large. It wasn't a head-on collision, because the van began to spin—until it struck something else. All of the windows shattered, filling the back of the van with light as George and Ally tumbled backwards and slammed into the rear door. Ally struck her head; George struck the door with the entire left side of his body.
With a groan, George sat up. At least the van wasn't...no, actually, it was still rolling down the hill.
Through the broken rear window, he could see that their second collision had been with a grey sedan that now had a crumpled front hood. As they rolled further, he saw that the van had originally hit a U-Haul truck. If they'd hit it straight on, he, Lou, and Ally would probably all be dead now, instead of dead a few moments from now.
George prayed that Lou was still alive. He couldn't see any blood up front, but nor could he hear Lou snoring.
Though Ally seemed stunned she remained conscious. George kicked her in the head to try to change that. She tried to bite his foot. He kicked her again.
He glanced up front to make sure the van wasn't seconds away from crashing into another vehicle. They'd rolled into the opposite lane, and the snowplow coming toward them did not give him a warm happy feeling.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Crash
Ally's eyes were still open but she wasn't actively trying to kill George anymore, so he decided that his best move was to focus on stopping the van.
He started to crawl toward the front seats, which is when he discovered just how much his body hurt. Though no bones were broken, as far as he could tell, he knew he'd be covered with grotesque bruises, and the agony from merely crawling the length of a van was almost unbearable. In the morning he'd barely be able to move, if there was a morning for him.
He was also pretty sure he was leaving a trail of blood along the floor, though he didn't look back to verify. He hadn't felt this bad since the last time he dealt with a werewolf.
George made it to the front seats and reached over Lou for the steering wheel. Nope. His arms weren't long enough. He climbed between the seats, noting that the snowplow was trying to change lanes to avoid the van but was not doing so quickly because, after all, it was a snowplow.
Sure, it was pushing a large pile of snow in front of it, but that wouldn't make this a well-cushioned, fluffy impact.
George grabbed the steering wheel and spun it to the right. The tires screeched and the van went off the road and into a driveway, narrowly missing a tree, two snowmen, and a parked car.
The van did hit the other parked car, though.
George felt as if his body were ripped in two at the waist. Fortunately, the seats kept him from hurtling straight into the dashboard and splattering the contents of his skull. Lou rolled off the front seat.
At least the van had stopped now.
George put his hand on Lou's neck. There was still a pulse. Thank God.
And now Ally's snarling had resumed. She was crawling toward him, teeth bared, claws extended.
Tranquilizer gun. He needed the tranquilizer gun.
No, wait, he'd dropped that in the back. He couldn't remember if it was while he was fighting Ally or during one of the crashes, but either way, the gun was inaccessible.
The
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