“The florist said we could use her back entrance. There’s a large dumpster about halfway between the train tracks and the building. We can use that for cover as we get eyes on the situation and plan more accordingly once we realize what we’re getting into.”
Bennett continued to talk, and the five other guys in the vehicle with us were silent as we listened.
In this particular vehicle, there was Derek, Ford, Hayes, Louis, and Booth. In the other vehicle was Booth’s twin, Bourne, Adam, Samuel, Nathan, Malachi, and Saint. Their team leader was another veteran of the SWAT team, Foster Spurlock.
Once we’d all gotten our assignments and offered our opinions on the situation at hand, half of us got out and started into the florist.
The other half stayed with the armored vehicle and parked in such a way that we were blocking the woman’s exit but also a safe distance away just in case things hit the fan.
Like what happened about two seconds after she saw us parking.
It was as if something had clicked.
“She’s on the move,” I heard someone from the other team say. “She’s started the van and is putting it into drive.”
She tried to go backward, but we poked our nose out farther.
“Don’t let her leave with those kids,” I heard ordered.
I wasn’t sure who’d said it, but I was in wholehearted agreement. That woman didn’t need to be driving those children anywhere. But the woman in the van took one look at our vehicle and reversed, going the opposite direction than where we’d expected her to go.
Meaning she drove through a ditch that no van should’ve ever been able to make it through. Then started back up the hill and across the parking lot. Then farther into traffic.
“Son of a bitch!” I heard cried.
The back door was wrenched open and the rest of our team poured in, regaining the seats that they’d previously been occupying.
Seconds after that, the drive of the armored vehicle started accelerating, Ford likely flooring it.
“Don’t let her get onto the interstate!” I heard Foster order as he talked to someone through his mic.
Another police officer, I was sure.
“Shit,” I heard Ford say. “She got onto the interstate.”
Sure did.
We all watched in horror as the woman started speeding, the wrong way, down the length of a busy highway.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Louis growled, his body tensing.
We all watched, in utter horror, as the van continued to drive down the wrong way.
The cars coming at her were going the speed limit—sixty-five.
And there was no way in hell she wasn’t going at least that, too.
People were swerving, running off the road, and braking all over the place.
“Someone get up ahead and get the interstate closed down,” I heard ordered.
That sounded like our chief of police, Luke Roberts.
I winced.
For him to be involved, this had to be just as bad as my gut feeling was telling me it was.
Just then a man on a motorcycle came roaring past us as if we were standing still.
Seconds after that, the motorcycle overtook us, sped so far down that we could barely see his lights anymore before we saw him turn around by going through the grass median.
Lights on, he closed off what he could of the interstate—which admittedly wasn’t much seeing as he was only a small vehicle.
People stopped, but it wasn’t enough.
Just as the van finally got to where he had the cars backing up, a white Escalade that was avoiding ramming the woman that’d stopped for the motorcycle patrol vehicle swerved around it and came nose to nose with the woman and the van full of kids.
It took half a second, and the cars collided.
Debris went absolutely everywhere.
Bits and pieces of cars.
Bits and pieces of clothing.
Bits and pieces of… other things.
“Shit,” I breathed, my stomach tightening as horror rolled through my veins.
“Son of a bitch.” Ford parked the armored vehicle on the side of the road and we all got out.
But there was no use.
There was no way that anybody could’ve survived that particular wreck.
None.Chapter 10I got so much procrastinating done today.
-Rowen’s secret thoughts
Rowen
After Dax’s rough day, I decided to surprise him with dinner and a movie.
Well, dinner and the password to my brother’s Netflix account that we shared.
I knocked on the door to his duplex and waited for him to answer the door.
It took him a whole lot longer than I expected it would.
When he finally arrived, I could see why.
His hair was all over the place, and his eyes were barely cracked open.
There were also creases on his face as if he’d been lying on his couch and the lines of the cushion had been permanently etched into his face.
“Hey,” I said softly.
He blinked owlishly at me.
“Hey.” His voice was gruff. “What’s up?”
That’s when I took in the rest of his body.
He was wearing sweatpants.