Tucker felt worse in that moment than any time in his life. His muscles burned and his lungs weren’t working properly as he collapsed to the ground. He gazed at the streets they had just run down. Houses that used to be nice lined both sides, but no one was following them. At his side, Clint was sprawled out on the sidewalk. He didn’t look much better.
“We need to keep going,” Willis said, trying to open car doors, “there’s not enough distance between us and them.”
Tucker almost threw his shoe at him, “we can’t keep going like this.”
“Then help me find an open car.”
“So we can what? Hot-wire it? None of these cars are old enough to do that?”
Willis kicked the car in front of him, “if you’re not going to help, shut up.”
Seething, Tucker got to his feet. The space between didn’t seem big enough for Willis. He stepped back as Tucker charged at him. His fist would have connected had Dallas not grabbed him.
Tucker fought Dallas, “let me go.” He was pushed back toward Clint.