Big Data: A Startup Thriller Novel

Chapter 50

"You know, I want to thank you, Alex. You've been a great friend to me these last few days. After you start a company, it can be hard to make new friends."

Alex was driving us to the hospital to check on Phillip. It was a big risk, since Alex had seen Thor at the hospital, but I convinced him it was worth it. Thor had been two steps ahead of us at every turn. The only way to beat him was with information. And there were precious few ways for us to get more information without being discovered. However, getting to the hospital was taking forever. Rush hour traffic combined with a crash on El Camino Real. I'd told Alex I should drive—after all, I knew all the back streets, but he was as stubborn as I was and already sitting in the big chair.

"I have trouble believing that. Big-time CEO. I bet you have a million friends."

"You know the cliché about women in business?"

"Not really."

"Well, they say to get ahead in business, you need to stand up for yourself. In a man, that's called confidence. In a woman, it's called—"

"Confidence."

I laughed.

"I wish more people thought like you in this world, Alex."

We finally pulled up to the wreck. It was a doozy. Three-car pileup. A mother was holding her infant child and screaming at a teenage driver, who I gathered caused the wreck.

"Well, I hope you're okay. Your insistence on going to the hospital makes me worried."

"No, I'm fine."

I smiled. I hadn't stopped to think how close Alex and I had become. I didn't know if I could have done any of this without him. I thought about how depressed I had been before all this madness began. It wasn't just that I was lonely. It was that I didn't have anything to do. Everyone at work knew I was the lame duck. And they definitely treated me like it.

I'd heard the things people called me behind my back. The office chatter. When I was put on the cover of Wired, everyone wanted to take selfies with me to send to their friends. But now they wouldn't even say hello to me in the halls.

Ancien was my baby. I had given everything to create it out of nothing. And I employed these people at above-market salaries and great stock options. And this was how they repaid me? By treating me like I was a ghost?

Then my passenger-side window shattered onto my lap. The door was intact. Nobody had run into us. I wondered if a bird had flown into my window or something.

"Get down," yelled Alex.

I ducked into his lap. I heard two shots whiz over my head. Alex hit the gas and pulled onto the curb, honking wildly for pedestrians to get out of the way.

"How did they find us?" I shouted back.

"I told you we shouldn't have met with Heath. He's one of them."

Another shot shattered the back window. Alex pulled into a side street. An old lady was crossing in the middle of the road. Alex held the horn, yelling at her to move. I stuck my head up and looked back. A black Ford Crown Victoria turned the corner at high speed. The old lady hurried as fast as she could. Alex drove onto the opposite sidewalk, speeding past her. She flipped us off, screaming something.

"I said keep your head down," Alex yelled at me. But before I folded down to hide again, I saw something that terrified me. Two families—five small children, two mothers, and two fathers—were crossing the street ahead of us. They were lined up like the Beatles in Abbey Road and Alex was not slowing down. In fact, he was speeding up.

"Slow down. Alex, those are children."

He honked even more frantically than with the old lady. The kids stared at us in shock. I turned around and saw the Crown Vic closing in on us.

"Alex, no."

The kids weren't moving. The parents were screaming at them to run. We were feet away now. Alex jerked the wheel sharply to the right, and we popped up on the sidewalk, straight into a grassy park. At this point, Alex just held down the horn. People dove out the way like they were receivers diving for a Hail Mary touchdown.

Alex jerked the wheel again and turned back onto the pavement. I heard sirens in the background. I was a fugitive in New York, and now I was going to become a fugitive in California, too—if I survived, which was looking increasingly less likely.

The Crown Vic had caught up to us. I could see the driver. He seemed calm, as though he had done this sort of thing before. He slammed his car into ours. Alex screamed. The car spun. It was like a roller coaster ride from hell.

Our car finally came to a stop. I could hear the sirens getting louder. I saw the driver calmly get out of the Crown Vic, a long gun in hand. He turned to me. I tried to unbuckle myself, but my seat belt was stuck. I looked over at Alex. He was slumped over.

"Alex. Alex."

No response. The man reached my door. He was dead calm, eyes cold and empty. Like he was bored—like he was tired of having to kill people all the time. He pointed the gun straight at my face. The world stopped moving. I could swear the birds froze mid-flight.

I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could, wishing I could just wake up. Wishing this was all just a bad dream. The worst dream I'd ever had in my life. I swore to God if I could just wake up, I would be a better person. Then I heard a thud and screeching tires.

I opened my eyes. It wasn't a nightmare. I was still here. But the man wasn't. Then I saw Heath.

"Luna, you okay?" he asked. "Come on. Let's go."