the smuggler’s bible


It’s not exactly a cart and plow, but it rolls over the bones of the dead just fine. Juliet’s foot finds the clutch. She downshifts and hits the curve at just under 180 mph. One of the police cruisers flubs it and clips the wall, blossoms into a bright orange splash in her rear-view mirror.

Juliet keeps her eyes wide open—the irises spin and quiver, maintaining focus at speeds near the bottom of the spec sheet. She’s got more of a lead than she deserves—whatever she tripped on her way out rang pretty loud for a silent alarm.