Page 81 of Beehive

Will juiced the bike, and we gained speed. Their car was faster, but we were far more nimble. For a heartbeat, I thought we might lose them at the next intersection, but then we emerged onto a broader avenue—what had been one of Berlin’s major arteries before the bombs fell.

“Hold on!” Will shouted.

I barely heard him above the roar of the engine and whipping wind.

The GAZ swung violently right, its tires squealing.

Will cranked the handlebar, and we followed, almost kissing the pavement as we leaned into the turn.

The city blurred.

I caught glimpses of hollow windows and scorched doorframes, twisted iron fences, and abandoned tram tracks. The Soviets led us deeper into their territory, closer to their checkpoints. If they got that far, we’d never get away alive.

Shots fired again—this time from inside the car.

The back window shattered outward.

I flinched, and Will jerked the bike sideways.

A bullet screamed past my ear, so close I felt the heat of its passage.

The gap between us narrowed.

Another turn, then another.

The streets were a labyrinth.

My eyes watered from the wind and the smoke.

I squeezed off a shot—just one—aiming low. The bullet pinged off the rear bumper. It didn’t hit anything vital, but it rattled them.

The car swerved again.

Will cursed.

There was a bridge up ahead, over a canal choked with debris and possibly mines. I remembered it from our scouting reports. The railing on the left side had collapsed into the canal below, and makeshift planks had been laid down to strengthen the deck. The whole thing looked like it might give way at any moment.

“They’re heading toward the bridge!” Will yelled.

The car’s driver seemed confident. Too confident.

“Now!” I shouted to Will, though I didn’t know what I expected him to do.

A surge of adrenaline cleared my vision.

Time stretched.

I saw every chip of stone, every swirl of dust.

The GAZ reached the bridge, hit a section of uneven plank, and lurched violently.

Its back wheels skidded.

Sparks flew as metal scraped over rough timber.

The driver fought for control. For a second, it looked like he might recover, but then the front tire caught on a protruding rodof rebar. The car’s front end jerked left, and the vehicle slammed into the broken railing.

My heart stopped.