The Cruise — Christopher Charles

Blinding headlights behind, now beside her. Curve ahead, she slams the brakes. It misses, smashes through the rail. She hears it strike the rocks below. Silence, only the darkness. Her arms shake. In the city, headlights again. The ship, the Marines will be there. She skids to a stop at the gangplank, no one. The black car pulls up behind her, doors open. She accelerates, as bullets take out the windows. She stops at the edge of the pier. It's quiet, she hears footsteps. Raul why, I love you.