We were still skidding backward, and I looked forward to see blue halogen headlights filling the windshield. Before I could catch my breath, yet another vehicle joined the insanity by marrying itself with great purpose to the front end of ours. I snapped backward amid the deafening crunch, watching with detached interest as the interior filled with a hazy fog, and the windshield was instantly obscured by the deploying airbags.
I didn’t black out. At least I don’t think I did. Still, I couldn’t begin to tell you how much time passed or what actually transpired between this moment in time and my last clear recollection, which was the white fabric of the airbags filling my field of vision.
The shrill cacophony of a car horn was insinuating itself into the mix of other sounds, effectively pushing everything else into the background.
I opened my eyes and saw that I was pitched forward, almost doubled over, and now staring at the floorboard. I put my hand against the back of the seat in front of me and pushed, levering myself into an upright position. I could feel someone moving next to me and turned to find Felicity pushing herself up as well. I could tell by the way she was moving that she was completely disoriented.
She began reaching toward the passenger side of the vehicle as she cried out for me, “Rowan!”
I slipped my hand over to her, and she jerked toward me the moment I touched her leg. She quickly shifted direction and grabbed for me, struggling against the center passenger lap belt that still encircled her waist. Her lower lip was bleeding, and there was a gash over her right eye, but she seemed to be coherent and moving okay.
“Are you all right?” I shouted over the din of the vehicle’s horn.
“Aye, yes, I’m okay,” she cried. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I reassured her.
“Felicity! Rowan!” Ben’s voice cut through the noise.
I looked up to see him reaching across the back of the seat. His nose was bloodied, and he seemed to be favoring his right hand. Looking past him, I could see a spidery, circular shatter point on the windshield that looked like it would just about fit his large fist.
“Ben!”
“Are you two okay?” he screamed.
“Yeah, I think so. You?” I shouted back.
“I think my fuckin’ hand is broke,” he returned. “Mandalay’s unconscious. I think she’s hurt bad.”
“Oh Gods!” Felicity exclaimed as she continued to struggle with the lap belt. “Is she breathing okay?!”
“Yeah, I think so!” he yelled.
“Don’t move her,” Felicity called back to him.
“I know, Felicity, I know!” he returned. “Can you two get out?!”
“I don’t know,” I yelled back at him.
I sent my hands in search of the latch on my own safety harness and managed to thrust my knuckles into it hard enough to make it pop free. Taking hold of the door handle, I pulled it up and pushed. The door gave outward slightly, but other than that, it didn’t really budge.
Looking out the window, I could see that the side of the vehicle was caved inward at the center structural pylon. I looked over at Felicity. “Honey, can you move over a bit!”
I was shouting to be heard over the blaring horn, but mid-sentence, there was a dull pop as a shower of sparks exploded from the front of the car. The lights flickered and went black. The horn warbled sickeningly then faded to silence. The last half of my sentence resounded through the cabin, breaking the new found calm.
Felicity shifted as far as she could to the opposite side of the vehicle, and I scooted with her. Twisting in the seat, I drew my legs up and lay back with my head almost in her lap. I pushed my right hand against the back of the front seat and then levered my left elbow into the other for support. Pistoning my legs with everything I had, I kicked hard against the door. It bounced outward a few inches and then sprung back against me.
I could hear the pained groan of metal from the front of the vehicle, and the ambient noise of the exterior burst inward along with a healthy blast of cold air. I kicked outward again, and the rear door creaked as it pushed open a few inches farther and remained there this time.
I sucked in a deep breath of chilly air and tensed all my muscles as I continued levering pressure against the mangled door. As I groaned, I looked up through the window and saw Ben with his shoulder wedged into the scant opening as he joined me in muscling it wider.
The sheet metal complained loudly, and the hinge popped out audible complaints as the door started to move. I closed my eyes and forced out a guttural scream as I sent everything I had into my legs and pushed. The sound started slowly, creaking through a low pitch, rising along the way until it burst forth as a loud crunch. My legs pistoned outward against nothingness as the door popped past the sticking point and flung open.
Ben’s torso was already through the opening, and his good hand was extended toward me. I released my grip on the seats and took hold of the offered appendage. With a smooth pull, he slid me out the opening and up to my feet. As I stepped forward I turned, but he was already tucked back inside in the process of extracting Felicity in the same manner.
“Is everyone okay here?” A voice met my ears, and I looked back around to find a uniformed city police officer staring back at me, detached concern in his eyes.
Over his shoulder, I could see two patrol cars parked in the near westbound lanes on the opposite side of the concrete barrier. The emergency lights on the vehicles were flickering madly, and passersby were already slowing to gawk.
“The driver is hurt,” I declared in answer. “She’s unconscious.”
The officer nodded as he looked over my shoulder at Ben and Felicity. I noticed that his arm moved almost instantly, and his hand rested on his firearm. I glanced back and saw that my friend’s jacket was pushed back, revealing the grip of his Beretta peeking out of its snug home in his shoulder holster.
“I’m a cop,” Ben told him, taking immediate notice of his posture. “Detective Storm. My shield’s on my belt.”
Ben moved his left hand slowly across and pushed back his jacket to reveal his badge. The uniformed officer relaxed noticeably and shifted his hand away from his weapon. As soon as the immediate tension faded, Felicity stepped forward and took hold of my arm.
“The driver of this vehicle is injured, and she is an FBI agent,” Ben added, shifting without hesitation into his professional mode.
The uniformed officer immediately keyed up his radio and began speaking. “Dispatch, Unit Twenty- seven,”
“Twenty-seven, go ahead,” came the static-plagued response.
“Dispatch, Unit Twenty-seven, ten seventy-two multiple vehicle accident with injuries on Interstate Forty- Four just west of Exit Two Eighty-eight. I have a federal officer down, over.”
The speaker hissed again. “Twenty-seven, repeat officer down, over.”
“Dispatch, Twenty-seven. Driver of involved vehicle is unconscious. Has been identified as FBI. One passenger identified as Detective Storm with homicide. He’s injured but conscious and lucid, over.”
“Twenty-seven, dispatch, rolling paramedics your location, over.”
“Ten-four, dispatch.”
I was rattled. It took a moment for me to realize that I was just standing there staring at the scene around me. I counted a total of five cars resting askew across the eastbound lanes of the highway. Mandalay’s vehicle sat at the center of a small cluster of three that comprised the crux of the accident. The other two were spread out like billiard balls, one canted against the center median, the other was farther back and pointing into the oncoming traffic.
To my left, another officer was igniting flares and tossing them to the pavement at various intervals to create a cordoned area. I glanced around and saw that the occupants of the other vehicles seemed to be in far better shape than us.
“Rowan?” Felicity’s voice called to me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, honey, yeah, I’m fine.”
