by Stephen Patch (age 15)

“Hold on tight.” Shannon slid the car round the corner, clipping the curb.

“It was the only car I could hotwire. Hold on tight.” Shannon spun the wheel hard. A small wooden railing along the roadside disappeared with a sickening crunch. Our little car bounded into extensive, wooded park grounds. The two Land Rovers blasted through the wooden railings behind us.

Shannon dug her Glock 17 out of her jacket and waved it at me.

“Aim for the tyres, and don’t miss. I’m almost out of ammunition.”

I nodded and took the gun, hands shaking. The closest Defender was three metres away. A flowerbed separated us.

Shannon glanced at me. “Use two hands. Brace your elbows on the window frame. And hurry up!”

The gun wouldn’t hold steady in the bouncing car. I squeezed the trigger. The backlash vibrated down my arms. I missed. The flower bed ended, and the Land Rover swerved toward us. I fired again, and again. I hit the windscreen. It shattered in the driver’s face. Shannon slung the car out of the way and the Land Rover slammed violently into a huge pine tree. There was no time to see what damage had been done.

The second Land Rover pulled alongside us. The window buzzed down, and Raman glared at us from inside the car. A decorative stone wall separated us. Up ahead, the wall ended. Raman would nudge us and roll our car.

“What are you waiting for? Shoot!” Shannon gestured towards Raman. “Aim for the driver! It’s the only way to completely stop the car.”

I tried my best to aim at the rear tyres. I fired, once, twice, three, four times. Miraculously, a bullet connected. The car jerked painfully.

The wall ended. The Land Rover swerved toward us. Shannon grabbed the handbrake and executed a perfect handbrake turn. The Rav4 turned on a dime. But unfortunately, it was too late. Raman’s car slammed into the back of ours. The shock jolted the gun out of my fingers. Shannon lost control.

Raman glared at us. His fingers gripped his machine pistol so tight his knuckles turned white.

“You’re not useful hostages anymore. So, I’m going to kill you.” His voice was low and deadly. I could barely hear it above the sound of my pounding heart. “And the boy dies first.”

So, this is the end. I stared at the grass. My vision blurred. Adrenaline buzzed inside. I leant against the Rav4’s cold metal door.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance.” Raman grinned. I could hear it in his voice. “Too bad you missed.”

“I wasn’t aiming at you.” My voice quivered slightly.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I wasn’t trying to hit you.”

“Then you’re a fool!” Raman growled. He snapped the safety off his pistol and pointed it at me. “A fool that’s about to die.”

I felt very old and very tired – I wanted to disappear. “God, I’m done.” Then I had an absurd thought. Tell him the truth. Raman pressed the gun to my forehead.

“God, no!”

Tell him the truth. So I did. “I’m not a fool. If you kill me, I know where I’ll go. If I killed you, you’ve no idea where you’d go.”

“Oh, so you’re religious!” Raman was furious now. He grabbed me by the collar. Fighting the fear stuck in my throat, I looked straight up into his blazing eyes. Behind the anger, fear crouched. Clearly, his conscience had been busy. I knew what I had to say.

“Don’t say another word! I know all about God. But he makes no sense.”

“Most of life makes no sense. That’s how you can know God’s real. God loves you.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“How do you know? You don’t know God. But God knows everything about you. God loves you.”

“I’ve beaten people to death. Drowned others. Poisoned, shot or even blown people up. God doesn’t love me!”

“That’s a lie you’ve invented to avoid God! But God loves you and can forgive you. God doesn’t accept perfect people – because they don’t exist!” I wasn’t scared anymore. God did love Raman. I knew that. And God commanded me to love him as well. Raman needed Jesus just as much as I did.

Raman stared at me long and hard. I stared back at him without any fear. “God loves you.”

Raman waved his machine pistol at us. “Move away from the car.” He climbed into the front seat and turned the key. His window buzzed down. “A bus leaves from the other side of the park in five minutes. It goes to Central Station. Catch a train out of the city.” Then he floored it and blasted away. I didn’t realise I’d been holding my breath until I let it go.

Shannon gave me a long, hard stare. “What just happened? You do know God’s not real, right?”

“Then what do you call this?” I gestured vaguely at where the Rav4 had been a moment ago.

“Come on,” Shannon replied. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss that bus and we’ve got to get out of here.”

***

As the bus pulled away from the stop, I silently thanked God. Oh yes, it’s good to know God’s real.