And Then There Were None

Lightening was flickering weakly, noiselessly and sporadically on the horizon as the car hydroplaned around another corner. Jess, suddenly applied the brakes and the two women, stared at the obstruction in front of them. It was twelve feet high and made of steel, a rusted, chain, link-fence, fastened together with an old-fashioned lock. The thing they'd dreaded the most had happened, they were boxed in and the car behind them was closing in fast. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as Jess reversed the car and backed up. Diane, guessing her intention, felt her heart jump in her chest. They were going to run the gate.