Guarding Autumn (Crimson Point Security #3)

Chapter Nineteen

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Carly darted a fearful glance around her, heart pounding so hard against the inside of her ribs it made her feel sick. She was trapped in the moving mass of people surging into the street, unable to stop or get free.

All around her, people were yelling and pushing and shoving. Cars and piles of trash were burning on the street, filling the air with smoke that blew in her face when the breeze shifted.

She coughed and squinted, couldn’t see what was in front of them or where they were going, only knew that she was slowly being swept farther and farther away from the hotel and her mom.

Instinctively she pressed close to the people in front of her, a group of adults who all seemed as confused as she felt, huddling there and making herself as small as possible. It scared her that no one seemed to know what was happening, that they were all afraid too, and no one was in charge. Even the police couldn’t make it stop.

She had lost sight of the man—Jonas—who had come to her room to get her almost as soon as they had reached the bottom of the staircase in the hotel. She’d looked everywhere in the crowd for her mom or him, but the police had forced everyone away from the hotel because of the fire.

Another burst of fear ripped through her, triggering the burn of tears. How was she going to find her mom now?

An arm looped around her shoulders. She looked up to find a lady frowning down at her in concern. “What are you doing out here by yourself? Where’s your mom or dad?” the woman yelled over the noise. A mix of angry voices, drums, whistles, and shouts that came from every direction.

“I don’t know,” Carly said, her voice wobbling as a huge lump filled her throat.

She was so scared. Being stuck out here in this huge, unstable crowd felt more dangerous than being back in the hotel even with the fire. Smoke from it continued to drift through the air, stinging her eyes and throat.

The woman pulled her closer and craned her neck to look around. “There’s a policeman over there,” she said, then turned to yell at the others around them as she moved Carly slightly to the right. “There’s a little girl here. Let us through!” She turned them and tried to guide Carly to the right. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll get you to the policeman, and he’ll help you find your parents. Okay? Now hold on tight and don’t let go.”

Carly nodded and pressed herself close to her, clenching the woman’s waistband so tight her fingers ached. Several more adults near them tried to stop and put their arms out to block people behind them and give them room to move, but were quickly shoved forward by the force of the crowd.

Carly and the woman stumbled. Someone caught Carly by the back of her hoodie and pulled her upright before she hit the ground. She staggered forward a step and choked back a sob, struggling to hold onto the woman’s waistband, afraid that if she lost her grip she would never get out of this.

She wanted her mom. Wanted this nightmare to be over right now .

“It’s okay,” the woman repeated over the din, but Carly didn’t believe her. “Let us through!” she yelled, the shrill edge of fear in her voice making Carly’s stomach cramp.

She wanted to shut her eyes but was too scared to risk it, ducked her head instead because looking around just made everything seem worse.

Before they’d moved more than a few feet, a loud roar went up from somewhere nearby in the crowd. Then high-pitched screams ripped through the air. Carly tensed, then the tightly packed mass of people moved around them like a whirlpool, swirling and shifting, sucking them in deeper toward the center.

Carly hid her face against the woman’s back, struggling to stay upright, gritting her teeth against a scream of terror as she was mashed from behind and both sides. Panic exploded through her, a bone-deep terror that she was about to be crushed to death.

Big arms wrapped around her from behind, breaking her hold on the waistband and jerking her away from the woman. “Get on my shoulders, quick!” a man shouted.

He boosted her up before she could argue. Carly grabbed hold of his shirt as he struggled to get her seated on his shoulders, his hands wrapped around her legs to hold her steady.

She crouched over his head, looking around frantically. She could see over the crowd now, but the view before her made the lump stuck in her throat swell.

A sea of people spread out as far as she could see in every direction, everyone caught in the confusing, disorganized mass. Some were fighting. Others were trying to flee. All of them were trapped like her.

“Do you see a cop close by?” the man shouted up at her. The woman who had helped her was somehow still beside them, one hand on Carly’s leg, eyes full of fear, her mouth pinched.

“That way,” Carly shouted back, pointing to the left to the only officer she could see. He wasn’t close by, but he was on a horse off to the side of the street. She couldn’t be sure, but he looked trapped too, except the crowd seemed to melt away when the horse moved into it.

The man carrying her turned in the direction she indicated and began fighting his way through the crowd while she clung to the fabric of his shirt to keep her balance. She was still afraid, terrified she would fall off and be trampled, but with her eyes locked on the mounted policeman, she felt a burst of hope. If she could just get to him, maybe he could help her find her mom.

****

Dan’s pulse pounded in his ears as he took in the rapidly deteriorating situation around him. A thin rivulet of blood trickled down into his eyes from a cut beneath the balaclava.

He ripped it off, wiped his bleeding forehead and kept pushing forward with grim determination. The city center was a veritable war zone. He and the other protesters were showing those bastards just how much contempt and rage they had for them and their narcissistic, elitist agenda.

But at some point over the last few minutes they had begun to lose their momentum. Their headlong charge toward the line of cops had been brought almost to a halt by another line moving in behind the first at the last second.

They had stalled, were now at risk of being driven backward at any moment if they didn’t punch through the lines before the cops could reform farther south, between his position and the conference center.

“Gas! Gas!”

He saw the cannisters arcing into the crowd. Puffs of tear gas rose up from the ground. Cries echoed around him as the crowd suddenly halted and tried to scatter, retreating in blind panic.

Dan sucked in one last clear breath. He closed his eyes and leaned his weight forward onto the balls of his feet, hands outstretched in front of him in an attempt to hold off the wave of humanity now coming back at him and the others.

“We’re not stopping! Come on!” the young guy that had led their charge bellowed from just ahead of him.

Dan kept pushing. Held his breath as long as he could, then risked opening his eyes a fraction. Shit, a thin veil of gas hung in the air. There was no avoiding it.

Pain seared his eyes as the gas made contact with the moisture there and in his nose. Then his starving lungs finally gave out, and he was forced to suck in a breath. Fire scorched his throat, his lungs tightening.

He doubled over, coughing, wiping at his streaming eyes. People were still trying to scatter. He could feel the tide turning around him. But he had been gassed plenty of times in the military and refused to back down now. He wasn’t a fucking coward.

Through burning, tear-drenched eyes, he saw the blurry line of cops waiting ahead with their shields and batons and the handful of protesters who were still trying to push forward. The tear gas was thinning now. He just had to grit his teeth and hold on until the worst was over. If they got past the cops, the air would be clearer.

Dan focused inward, letting all the bitterness and rage he’d carried all these years settle deep in his gut. It was fuel. Nourishment for his anguished soul. The time had come for him to lead.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He opened his mouth, let out a war cry, and blindly rushed forward, cutting through the retreating crowd. Tears continued to stream down his face, blinding him, intensifying the pain.

But he wouldn’t stop. Would never stop until they made him.

Others joined in on his left and right, heading for the enemy line standing between them and their ultimate goal.

More of the crowd merged with them, enraged by the tear gas. The line of charging protesters ahead of him crashed into a wall of shields and batons, seemed to melt as men ducked and raised their arms over their heads to protect themselves. Dan clenched his jaw and punched through a slight gap that opened in the line where cops were busy beating at other protesters.

“Go, go!” someone yelled behind him, planting a hand in the middle of his back to help propel him forward.

Dan put on a burst of speed, struggling to see, gagging from the gas. Another group of riot cops appeared in front of him out of nowhere, blocking his path.

He skidded to a halt, unable to move left or right through the retreating crowd. Seeing the new line of cops, the men around him turned and fled, leaving him standing there alone.

Before he could move, in unison the cops zeroed in on him and started forward.

Cold slid down his spine as he tried to take a step back, only to be stopped by a river of people rushing past him. He was trapped. About to be beaten like a dog in the street and dragged away in cuffs.

Blinking fast, heart and mind racing, he glanced around, desperately searching for a way out.

Above the sea of moving heads behind him, he spotted his chance in the form of a young girl perched on someone’s shoulders.