Her shot had hit a tyre on the other car. Helena was shocked by the slight recoil from the gun and just as she had fired, Atticus turned the vehicle enough for the tense Helena to fall over to the side in the backseat. She dropped the gun to the floor and lay there for a moment. She heard Atticus converse briefly in English with the woman on the screen again. She understood English well, most swedes did. But right now she needed to breathe normally again. She had just fired a gun for the first time in her life, for god's sake. And she'd hit. Well, not that she had aimed particularly for the tyre, just in the general area of the pursuing car. But still, nobody needed to know that.
Her body turned completely visible again, after having flickered for a while, and she sat up and put on the seatbelt that she had taken off before. Atticus glanced back at her in the rear mirror. She nodded as to say that she was alive.
"Thanks so much, Helena," he smiled to her as she drove quickly through several intersections where the light miraculously was green. "You did really great, really really great."
She wasn't that great, was she? All she had done was pick up a gun. She nodded again, starting to come back to her sane senses.
He continued. "Thankfully, we can breathe for now and get on a really nice plane and kind of rest for a little, y'know? We'll be at the airport in..." he glanced at the GPS, "about ten or twenty. Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?"
She shook her head now. "No. I'm alright. Wait..." She put her hand on her arm again. The jacked was torned and she was bleeding. "I think I got hit. But only a little. It doesn't hurt much at all, it's just... bleeding a little." A little, well, the inside of her jacket would soon smell really bad unless she cleaned it well. She took the jacked off and revealed the blouse she was wearing beneath.