THE ANGELES VICE

Dancing with death, part 3

Finally, staggering out of another alley, they reach one of the main streets where an old man is squeezing the water from a dirty rag he wipes the side skirts of his orange Renault 4 with. Sasha says nothing and gifts him a bullet to the skull, muttering 'gracias' as she dashes into the driver's seat, her escape partner lagging behind to take out more cartel men coming close to capturing them both.Sasha yells for the keys just as the other green-eyed girl snatches them from the dead man's belt loop, already having an idea that they were missing from the ignition. She leaps for the door and falls inside through the passenger seat, her struggle to balance herself and get a grip on anything becoming increasingly impossible. Sasha doesn't wait for her to close the door or sit up straight in her seat; she stomps on the gas and handles the manual stick as she pulls out of the parking spot with finesse, but not without eating a couple of shots firing at her on her way down the precarious terrain of Comuna 13.

"Hey, who are you?" Sasha glances at the woman squinting harshly at the automatic pistol and magazine in her hands, making her poorest effort to reload. She smirks and neglects answering her, distracting the woman with their very real current problem instead. Sasha nods at the men on motorbikes gaining on them in the side rearview mirrors. "If we make it out alive, I'll tell you. Look."

"Lightwork," the woman mumbles, wincing and hissing as she shifts in her seat and sticks half her body out the window, gun pointed and firing only when it counts. The graffiti murals all over the properties, the strobes of the street lights and headlights, and the boys on the motorbikes all blend in together like a swirl, fading in and out, damaging the success rate of her aim. Then there is this searing pain burning like a hot iron shooting up her leg, but she can't locate it, let alone buy herself the time to tend to whatever it is. "Mierda," she whispers through her confusion, continuing to miss her shots as the drowsiness begins taking full effect.

"Hey! Hey, girl," Sasha swerves and makes a hard turn left onto roads less traveled, constantly checking on the other woman who now hangs off the window, losing consciousness. One glance south of her body, and Sasha sighs heavily upon discovering the bullet wound in her right calf. She does the boldest thing she can think of at the moment and aligns herself in front of the first biker, stomps on the brake, and watches as two bodies fly off the motorbike that crashes into the Renault, landing yards away onto the dirt pavement. Sasha steals the gun off the foreigner's limp hand and blasts the other two pulling up to her window.eliminating the heat on them

for now.Another sigh leaves her lips, and her shoulders automatically drop. She slaps the girl repeatedly, urging her to stay awake. "Don't fall asleep. I'm going to get help, but you can't sleep. Hey!" she slaps her face again, forcing her to look at her. "You're going to be okay. It's not a serious wound, okay?"

"Yeah?" she smiles weakly and rolls her head with her eyes, laughing it off.She slurs, "After all that... I still can't feel a

thing. It doesn't matter."

Sasha side-eyes the road ahead, her eyebrows firmly pulling together. She leans forward and grabs the foreigner's leg, squeezing for any reaction, and she barely gets one. The good thing is, the woman isn't paralyzed. The bad thing? Sasha doesn't understand what she means by that. Sasha makes an attempt at English, hoping to finally connect with this mysterious person. "What is your name? Who are you?"Responding to her deep-textured feminine voice, the sound comparable to scratching warm velvet in the dark, the pale woman submits and slowly turns her head in Sasha's direction, avoiding any eye contact. The question triggers something inside this woman, evident for Sasha to see in her sobering face and struggle to answer. It doesn't seem to be a matter of distrust or paranoia; it actually seems more like the personal matters of a fragile heart.The woman's eyes close, and she abandons her mission to connect with Sasha. She faces straight ahead and hangs onto the silence just a bit longer, her clenched jaw flexing.

"Lauren," she whispers.

"Lauren," Sasha repeats, lighting up with joy. She puts her hands back on the wheel and grins. "Well, Lauren, it's a pleasure to meet you. I hope you don't mind... very long road trips?""Looks like you're my way out of this place," Sasha says with a smile. (It's a pleasure to meet you.)