Chapter 6 #2
“Put me on speaker,” Huck ordered, turning and jogging through the reception area and then outside.
They were only about twenty miles outside of town.
“Hold on a second.” Fighting every instinct inside him, he clicked over to call it in.
Hopefully, patrol cars were closer than he was right now.
Then he clicked back to hear the sound of gunfire.
Loud.
“Status?” Huck barked, reaching his truck and jumping inside.
The line went dead.
“Put your seat belt back on,” Walter snapped, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “They’re coming up fast again.”
Laurel had tried to fire but her angle wasn’t advantageous. Her phone had dropped to the floor. She partially turned and refastened her belt. “Reposition this side mirror fifteen degrees out.”
Walter reached over and did so.
“Right there.” Laurel pulled down the visor and slid open the mirror to see through the pounding rain.
“They’re both large and appear male.” Her breath caught.
“The passenger has a weapon. Appears to be an AK-47.” Panic began to set in and she inhaled, filling her lungs and calming her central nervous system.
“After they strike us again, I’ll turn on my knees and fire through the back hatch window.
” She’d aim for the driver. “Prepare for impact.”
A pattering sound came and then the ping of bullets against the rear of the vehicle.
“Shit,” Walter muttered, jerking the wheel to the right and swerving into the other lane. “Guess they decided to shoot first.”
Laurel inhaled again. They were alone on a lonely stretch of road, which was a good thing.
Her Glock felt solid in her hand, so she released her belt.
The shooting had paused. Using the center console to balance herself, she swung around onto her knees, aimed, and fired through the back. The sound instantly deafened her.
Glass shattered and the truck jerked to the shoulder.
“You get him?” Walter yelled from what sounded like very far away.
Her ears rang. “Uncertain.” The front window appeared intact as the truck barreled back into place behind them. “I don’t believe so.” Taking in another deep breath, she settled her elbows on either side of the headrest, lowered her chin, aimed, and fired at the shooter.
Her bullets hit along the truck’s hood, sending up sparks of fire into the rain. The truck swerved, she fired again, and the front windshield shattered. The passenger fell back, blood sprayed, and the gun dropped out of sight. “Shooter down.”
“Good,” Walter said grimly, eyeing his rearview mirror. “Seat belt. He’s still coming.”
Laurel needed to reload. She dropped down, pivoted, and rapidly engaged her seat belt. “I’m out.” Where was her bag? She had an extra clip in there.
“Here he comes,” Walter yelled.
Laurel stiffened and then forced her body to relax to better take another impact. Stiffening would cause more injuries. “Try to go lax, Walter. It’s better.”
“Right.” He shook his head. “I’d hit the brakes, but I think he’d run us over. I need room to be able to spin around so we can both shoot.”
She fumbled for her bag.
The sound of an engine came closer. Too fast. Laurel calculated the time of impact based on the large truck’s current trajectory.
She forced her body to calm as adrenaline flooded her system.
Then the impact hit. Harder than she expected, like a battering ram slamming into their vehicle.
Her body jolted forward, and her seat belt bit into her shoulder and chest.
The roar of metal crunching against metal filled her ears, a violent symphony of shrieking steel and shattered glass.
The world spun, a sickening tumble of sky and ground, and she cried out.
The SUV pitched into the air, gravity relinquishing its hold for a heartbeat before yanking them back down with merciless force.
It flipped once, twice. Maybe more. Orientation meant nothing.
Laurel gasped and clutched the console with one hand and her Glock with the other.
Air rushed past as her hearing returned.
Then the SUV slammed down onto the asphalt on its roof, metal crumpling with a sickening sound.
The airbags detonated with precise fury, filling the cabin with choking powder.
Laurel smashed backward into her seat, the recoil stealing her breath, her vision dimming as her brain scrambled to keep her calm.
The seat belt carved into her chest, the sensation of bruised ribs sinking deep. Then stillness. A haunting, hollow silence draped over the wreckage, disturbed only by the hiss of leaking fluids and the subtle pop of overheated metal. Gulping, she forced herself to turn her head.
“Walter?” Her own voice sounded distant, distorted.
“I’m good.” Upside down, held in place by the seat belt, blood streamed down the side of his face, painting his pale skin crimson.
His hands moved with a precision that belied the obvious pain, unbuckling his seat belt with a clack that echoed through the mangled space.
He dropped and landed with a loud crunch.
Laurel did the same, landing on one hand and pivoting to her knees, her joints screaming in protest. The gun remained steady in her grip.
“We have to get out of here.” If the truck hit them again, they’d be crushed.
Worse, now the driver had time to claim the weapon from his downed passenger.
She tried to force open her door, and it groaned in protest, warped beyond function.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Walter kicked at his door, his face twisted with effort and fury.
Laurel eyed the glass-strewn ground, bits glinting with sharp edges.
“I’m going through the window.” She scrambled forward, ignoring the sting of glass shards slicing into her knees through her pants.
Pain was a distraction she couldn’t afford.
She ducked out and pushed to stand, her legs trembling but holding firm.
The taillights of the truck were barely visible through the pounding rain as it sped back the way it’d come.
From the other direction, red and blue lights emerged from the murk, accompanied by the rumble of tires on wet pavement. As she watched, a Fish and Wildlife truck tore past the patrol cars racing toward her.
Walter shoved his way out of her window and stood, his gun hanging loose in his hand. Blood trickled down his face, but his eyes remained sharp and clear. “Looks like your boyfriend is coming.”