Crimson Highway by David Wickenhauser (brene brown rising strong TXT) 📗

had reached in through her partially open window and was trying to grab her by her hair.

Hugh was too busy dealing with the guy on his side to do anything about Jenny’s problem because, as the guy on Hugh’s side was unable to open the door, or break the window, he had pulled out a pistol and was making threatening gestures with it to Hugh.

Hugh made a split-second decision, and hit the down-window button for his side. As soon as it lowered enough, he shot his arm through the opening and punched the guy in the face with all the murderous rage that was in him.

The shock and awe of Hugh’s assault was enough to dislodge the guy’s grip on the mirror mount. In his panic to keep himself from falling, he dropped his gun, and grabbed for the top edge of the partially open window. He caught it with both hands, and desperately hung on.

Hugh then hit the up-window button.

What happened next was gruesome. The window quickly rose, and mangled the guy’s eight fingers against the top window frame. The edge of the window glass crushed his fingers so severely they were nearly severed. The man’s face on the other side of the glass was only inches from Hugh’s, and it was contorted in an agony of pain.

See ya later, Hugh said to himself as he lowered the window slightly, which released the guy’s trapped fingers. He dropped off to the pavement, screaming like a girl the whole time.

It was then that Hugh saw the car that was following them with another two guys inside it. He watched in his side-view mirror as they stopped to pick up their fallen buddy, and then the car sped up to come alongside the escaping truck.

“Jenny! We can’t stop, or these guys will be all over us!” he shouted, hoping that she could hear him through her screaming and frantic fighting off of the guy outside her window.

“You’ve got to do something for me … right now!”

“What?!” she screamed at him, near panic.

“We’ve got to do a hot seat swap, so I can get over there and bust the guy who’s hanging on outside your window!”

“What’s a hot seat swap!” she screamed at him.

“I don’t have time to explain the details,” he yelled. “Just get over here as best you can, sit in my seat and keep this truck rolling!” he shouted back at her.

“Are you out of your mind?” she screamed again, her voice rising to a higher pitch.

“No, honey, you can do it. Now, come on! We don’t have much time before he figures out a way to come through your window.”

As Hugh was saying that, he was already leaving his seat while still holding onto the steering wheel in order to keep the truck pointed down the road.

“Hurry up! We’re slowing down too much.”

Jenny took less than a second to gather her courage, then slid over in front of Hugh, and into his driver’s seat. Once Hugh knew that she had control of the steering wheel he let go, and slid over into her passenger seat.

“Keep your foot on the accelerator, and don’t stop for anything,” he yelled to her.

Hugh stabbed at the passenger-side down-window button to lower it further, hoping for a replay of what he had done just a minute ago with the other guy.

The hijacker who was hanging on had seen what had happened to his buddy, and he wasn’t having any of it. He leaned far back, while keeping a tenacious grasp on the side-mirror mount.

Hugh and the guy traded blows, tussling together, one inside the cab, the other hanging on outside the cab. Fortunately for Hugh, this guy didn’t have a weapon to bring to the fight.

“Hugh! We’re coming to a stop sign!” Jenny screamed.

“Blow it off! Keep going! Don’t stop!” Hugh yelled back at her, hoping beyond reason that they would make it safely through the intersection without crashing.

With Hugh’s attention distracted by his exchange with Jenny, the guy who he was grappling with had a chance to catch Hugh in a choke-hold with his left arm. Almost immobilized, but not completely, Hugh then got real angry.

Alright, this ends right now!

He reached down to his right side, and snagged his assisted-opening Gerber that he kept clipped to his pants pocket.

With a practiced single motion, he one-handedly flipped the four-and-a-half-inch knife blade open as he simultaneously raised his right arm. He buried the knife all the way to the length of the blade into his assailant’s right eye socket.

As this was happening, Hugh was vaguely aware of hearing horns honking and tires screeching. All he cared about was that the truck was still moving.

The wounded attacker’s scream was followed quickly by him releasing his hold on Hugh’s throat with his left arm, and on the mirror mount with his right. Hugh managed to keep ahold of his knife, now covered with blood and eyeball liquid, as the man fell away from the speeding truck. He landed by the side of the road in a rolling, tumbling, disorderly pile of flailing, twisting limbs.

Hugh looked into the side-view mirror, and saw the car that was following them pull over to pick up their seriously damaged buddy.

“They’re stopping,” Hugh exclaimed, almost out of breath from the choking. “They aren’t going to chase us. They’ve had enough,” he added, gasping for breath. Then he sat back in the passenger seat, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes to try to recover himself.

The sound of Jenny’s near-panicked voice broke his reverie. “Do you notice who’s driving this thing!” she shouted at him. “How about if you get your ass back here and take over!” In her agitation, Jenny was losing control of the truck, and they were mere moments from going off the road.

Hugh