Pack

She pulled the car forward, holding her hand over the stick, foot poised over the gas. The rumble from the engine vibrated in her bones. She turned up the music, just south of deafening. The bass was angry and fast enough to dissolve her thoughts. From the corner of her eye Alexa made an expression in her own car. It was a smile. Or something like it. The corner of her mouth lifted. She kept her eye on the red light.

Yellow now. Piper look ahead at the empty road. Sparse with lights, it looked as dark as the woods. The black shapes of trees twisted at the side of the road. It was hard, looking at the road, to remember that it had ever been day. Piper’s hand clenched on the stick. The car was a beast beneath her. It didn’t care that she was about to run it ragged. It was on her side. It wanted to win.

Green.

The cars burst forward, hurtling down the road toward the highway. They were streaks of light, electric and feral as animals. Piper pressed on the gas, throwing the car into second gear as she did so. Alexa was abreast of her; but Piper could tell that she was a few inches behind. She might make up those inches on a turn. Piper shifted gear again. The car roared and spat dust.

Art by Martin Masai Anderson

Text by Lucie MacAulay