Chapter 7 - The Burning Wreckage
The violently explosive impact sent our heavy armored SUV rolling wildly and uncontrollably across the wet, slick asphalt.
The absolutely deafening sound of crushing metal and shattering safety glass echoed painfully in my ringing ears.
We finally slammed upside down violently against a thick concrete highway barrier, left suspended by our tight seatbelts in the dark cabin.
Thick, black smoke instantly poured from the completely ruined engine block, filling the car with the suffocating smell of burning oil.
I coughed violently, tasting warm copper blood on my lower lip as I desperately fought to regain my spatial bearings.
I looked frantically over at David, who was slumped unconscious and bleeding heavily from a deep, ugly gash on his forehead.
I aggressively unbuckled my seatbelt, crashing painfully against the shattered, inverted roof of the ruined vehicle.
I blindly grabbed David's sharp tactical knife from his vest and quickly cut his jammed seatbelt completely free.
I dragged his incredibly heavy body inch by inch toward the kicked-out, shattered front windshield.
The freezing, relentless rain pelted my bruised face as I finally pulled us both out onto the slick, dangerous highway.
The massive tow truck that hit us was parked just fifty yards away, its incredibly bright headlights blinding me through the downpour.
A dark figure confidently stepped out of the driver's side door, holding a suppressed, highly illegal semi-automatic rifle.
It was Dana.
She was wearing a dark, heavy rain slicker and a completely unhinged, genuinely psychotic smile on her face.
She calmly walked toward us, raising the heavy rifle securely to her shoulder.
She shouted over the roaring storm that I should have just minded my own business and stayed away from the family.
I quickly pulled my concealed backup weapon from my ankle holster and fired three blind, rapid shots in her general direction.
One of the heavy bullets struck the metal grill of the truck, sending a shower of bright sparks flying into the dark night.
Dana immediately ducked behind the massive front tire, cursing loudly and angrily as she returned heavy fire.
Lethal bullets shattered the concrete barrier mere inches from my head, showering me in sharp, stinging dust.
I frantically checked my remaining magazine and realized I only had four actual rounds left to defend us.
David suddenly groaned in pain, his eyes fluttering open as his muscle memory forced him to grab his own service weapon.
He did not ask any confused questions; he simply laid down heavy suppressive fire, forcing Dana to stay pinned behind the truck.
I brilliantly used the loud distraction to sprint toward the tow truck's blind spot, desperately hoping to flank her position.
I crept silently along the wet pavement, my heart hammering violently and painfully against my bruised ribs.
I aggressively rounded the back of the heavy truck, raising my weapon with both hands to take the final, lethal shot.
But Dana was absolutely nowhere to be found behind the massive tire.
I suddenly heard the heavy, desperate screech of tires on the completely opposite side of the highway.
She had brutally hijacked a terrified civilian's running car and was currently speeding away into the dark, stormy city.
My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket, its screen completely shattered but somehow miraculously still functional.
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It was an urgent, frantic text message from Dr. Aris back at the hospital.
The terrifying message simply read: "The guards are dead, and they just took your mother."
