When I awoke the next morning, I looked over to see Leon’s indent on the other side of the bed. He was already finished getting ready, as we needed to get a head start to Sweden.

The rumble of the BMW’s cold start was like caffeine to me.

“Do you want to drive?” Leon asked as we sat in the parking lot. I shrugged. He needed a break, so I agreed. He smiled and we exchanged seats in the car. I held my foot on the clutch and then slowly released it, giving it a little bit of gas as I did so. I placed the lever in reverse and exited the lot.

I hadn’t driven in so long, it was like a rush. I had never driven a BMW with this much power before. I had to apply a little more gas when you released the clutch because there was a little more power.

“You are the first girl I’ve ever met that can drive a stick, especially this well,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. I smile and laughed a bit. I explained to him how my dad had taught me when I was young. I was driving trucks hauling horses to the racetrack almost four times a week by myself when I was barely sixteen. He taught me to drive a manual vehicle when he got me my first car in 1975.

“He didn’t actually buy me the car, it had been my older brother’s car before mine and he handed it down to me. A 1964 Mustang,” I told him, “white with Ford’s typical blue racing stripes”. He nodded in approval.

“We can stop in about two hours. We need to try contacting the unit back home,” he said suddenly. It was like reality had come crashing back down on me. Driving and talking had completely taken my mind off things.

When we arrived in Helsingborg, Sweden, we pulled to a small gas station. As I filled the car up, Leon went inside to see if we could use a phone. I followed him once finished, locking the doors on the car. Nobody was answering his call. Then suddenly, I watched his eyes widen. I leaned in the listen closer to what was being said.

“You can run, but you can’t hide” a voice said, and then all I heard was a click. I looked to Leon, terrified.

“Someone else answered. Russian. Not one of ours,” he said barely spitting the words out. “Scheisse! The whole operation is blown. We are gefickt,” he stammered.

“We’re what?” I asked. My head was spinning.

“We are fucked, Leighton. Gefickt.” he said, rushing me out the door and back to the car. I got into the front seat, holding the clutch to start it up once again.

“You need to drive. If you aren’t comfortable making it to Karlstad in four hours, let me drive” he said. With that, I released the clutch and launched to third gear, the front end nearly lifting from the road, RPM redlining and engine growling.

Diese Räder können sich nicht schnell genug drehen

Next Chapter: Chapter Seven