Frank, Joe, Laura, and Nancy spent the ten-minute ride to the bridge checking each voicemail on speakerphone and catching up to speed. And each person repressed his or her emotion in their own way in order to focus on the task ahead.
"You're right. Work does come first," Frank said to his brother, weighed down by guilt. "I should have figured all this out by now. Of course it's the same gang."
"Blame game isn't going to help us now. We've got to focus," Joe said to the group. "With just a couple of uninterrupted minutes, I think I can disable that remote they've described. Frank, I'm going to need you out there for backup. Mom, I hope one day I have the opportunity to ream you a new one for apparently never telling us that you're a trained agent, but we can't hear the story now. We need you and Nancy to guard the New Jersey side of the bridge. The terrorists are going to be standing by, making sure everything goes according to plan."
"All right," Laura said numbly, her heart bleeding the same way it always did when her loved ones were in danger. She had her arm around Nancy, rubbing the younger woman's back like they were mother and daughter. "All it takes is one gun, though. I think Nancy should stay in the car as a look-out."
"I'm going," Nancy said tiredly.
"Don't bother, Mom," Frank said, "it'll only make her upset."
The ten minutes went by very quickly, and Nancy and Laura had barely concealed their bullet-proof vests and firearms when Joe double-parked near the Rutgers parking lot, the four heading toward the pedestrian walkway as quickly as they could without arousing suspicion. The streets of Camden were quiet, the light from the street lamps glaring and sporadic as the four approached the spiral staircase that led up to the bridge. Traffic on the bridge was thinner at this time of night, and the four heard the sounds of car engines accelerating up the steep incline, the rumble of tires adjusting to the increased demands.
"All right, here's where Frank and I leave you," Joe said in a low voice, ducking toward his mother and giving her a kiss on the cheek. "If we don't make it back, call our supervisor first. He'll take things from there."
"You people forget that I'm crazy, not stupid," Nancy said calmly.
The three Hardys turned to stare at her, stunned.
"We all know that Joe and I have the same biologics training," Nancy continued. She turned her head and met Joe's fierce gaze straight-on. "But you have children that need you."
Frank recovered first and lunged for Nancy, but she had already taken off up the stairs, her footsteps echoing on the spiral staircase, afterward breaking into a sprint toward the center of the bridge. Wincing, Frank followed the best that he could, given the state of his bruised ribs. His fear kept him moving despite the pain.
"Not for me," Joe whispered, eyes following Nancy's retreating figure. "I can't believe you're sacrificing yourself for me. How can I let you?" Joe made a move to follow, and hesitated. Could he really leave his mother behind to face any danger alone?
He turned to look at Laura. Laura looked back at him, expression riddled with fear but also a quiet strength that Joe realized he'd always taken for granted. Joe looked at the bridge, and back at his mother. Four agents on the bridge would have to be enough.
He took two steps toward his mother, closing the distance between them, and put a gentle hand on her arm. "You shouldn't lose your husband and both sons in one night," Joe said quietly. "I'm staying."
Laura's shoulders sagged with relief just as she and Joe heard a fragmented conversation coming from an alleyway nearby. They never would have heard it if the water and wind hadn't carried the words to them.
"I don't know what's going on up on that bridge, but we've waited long enough. Something obviously happened to our leader. I'm giving the signal myself. Let those two suspicious old guys get sprayed in the face."
Joe immediately nodded to his mother, who already had her hand on her gun. She covered one side and Joe covered another, and they whipped out their guns and rounded the corner, effectively surprising the three Scream-costumed people who sat in a semicircle.
"Hands up," Joe ordered, and all three hesitated, wondering if they should fight back.
Laura fired three rounds at their feet. She wasn't worried about the sound of gunshots; this was Camden, after all. "Hands up, all of you, and if you hit 'send' on that cell phone, I'm blowing it out of your hand."
The gang did as told.
Joe turned wide eyes toward his mother. "Damn, Mom."
Laura shrugged.
"Well, it looks like we rounded up the gang from the New Jersey side, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was another one on the other side of the bridge, or even on the bridge." Joe sighed. "Containing these guys is a good start, but they won't work as hostages. Their buddies would rather get the job done than save their friends. Mom, hold the gun on them while I search them."
ndndnd
Nancy had wanted to enter the scene more valiantly than she did. Her sprint had rapidly turned into a jog, then a fast walk. She'd had to travel almost a mile to arrive where Carson and Fenton stood, and the pedestrian walkway was even steeper than the route the cars passed on. As expected, her father was heartbroken to see her.
"Oh, Nancy, I wish you hadn't come," Carson said dejectedly, speaking as quietly as he could while still being heard over the cars and wind.
"It's okay, Dad," Nancy said between gasps for breath. The pedestrian path was well lit, and Nancy adjusted quickly to the glare from the headlights on the bridge. Fenton saw her and backed out of the way. Nancy had to stand on her tiptoes to peer over the railing at the tiny vial with small, flashing lights attached to each wire. Joe was right, Nancy assessed. I need two good, solid, focused minutes.
Nancy tried her best to tune out what happened next and focus on her assignment. She heard Frank arrive, wheezing in pain, and felt the three men pressed tightly against her back, protecting her bodily. Far from simply looking suspicious, they now looked downright obvious.
"Oh, hell no," a voice said from down the bridge, pulling out his phone. Frank whipped out his gun and shot the cell phone out of the man's hand. The man screamed and clutched his hand, blood dripping. His cell phone clattered once on the railing, then fell a long way to the water below.
"Get out of here," Carson snapped to two lone pedestrians walking their way. The two didn't need to be told twice.
Blood rushed to Nancy's head from her position over the railing, and she kept working furiously. She pulled out each wire as soon as she was reasonably confident that it was correct. She heard a bullet whiz by, just over her head. Her hair dangled in her face, whipping in the vicious wind, and she impatiently shook to head to get it out of her way. That was her critical mistake.
Nancy felt her feet leave the ground involuntarily, and her eyes suddenly focused on the mirky waters of the river below. For one brief instant she maintained balance. Then, equilibrium lost, Nancy let out a scream as she topped over the railing.
From a haze of panic, Nancy heard a fog of disjointed voices and then felt a rough jerk on her left arm. Her shoulder popped as the world slowed down and became right-side up again. She felt strong hands gripping her left forearm, a rush of wind, and violent impact as her body slammed against the outside of the steel railing. Her stomach lurched powerfully in protest.
"Nancy," a voice said urgently above her. "Nancy, it's Fenton. Keep working. I've got you. I will not let go. You're doing a great job, Nancy. Keep going."
As soon as Fenton had started talking, Nancy heard Carson and Frank's sprinting footsteps. The two had been forced into confronting the three terrorists at close range, since the terrorists now had a much easier shot at Nancy hanging over the railing.
Swallowing her panic, Nancy forced her wild eyes to focus on the device in front of her, just slightly above eye level. She might even be able to finish quicker, now that her puzzle was right-side up.
And, miraculously, she kept working, despite her precarious position and the sounds of scuffling and shooting on the bridge. With her aching left arm she was supported by the man she'd fled from a couple of hours ago, the man whose wife had directed her to safety, and with her right hand she continued to pull out tiny wires.
Nancy flinched slightly as she heard Frank's wild cry of pain. Faintly she heard cars honking and squealing wheels. The cars on the bridge didn't have a good view of what was happening, but certainly could hear the gunshots.
She kept working. A bullet whizzed by, grazing the bottom of her calf, and she ignored the trickle of blood. She heard the long, frantic cry of a man who had been flipped over the railing and into the river below. Fenton grunted with effort, sweat accumulating on his hands.
Finally Nancy arrived at the last two wires. She had known all along that there was no way of knowing which wire to pull. It was a crapshoot, and the technology was designed that way. It was the nature of the business.
Without hesitating, Nancy plucked the upper of the two wires.
The device powered down.
Nancy immediately cupped her only free hand directly under the device. With a soft click, it released the small vial into Nancy's hand.
"I'm pulling you up now, Nancy," she heard Fenton say with effort, teeth gritted. "Give me your other hand." He let go of Nancy with his left hand to grab for her right.
Instead of giving him her hand, Nancy put the vial into his palm. Fenton's grip on her left arm slipped one inch.
Swearing softly, Fenton tucked the vial into his pocket. He reached his hand out for Nancy again. Suddenly his expression shattered with the raw experience of sheer physical pain. He'd been shot.
Nancy felt Fenton's grip release completely, and she closed her eyes, strangely calm. She was dangling too far out to be able to grab the railing, and she knew that. Her mission was complete. She would be joining her mother, dying in the line of duty. Maybe it wouldn't hurt too much when she hit the water; at this height, maybe it would be instant.
Suddenly Nancy felt a jerk and a crack in her left wrist, then searing pain. The hand jerked her up, then took hold of her arm with his other hand, and continued lifting her up with superhuman strength. Finally, when she was high enough, Frank put both of his hands under Nancy's armpits and shouted with the effort of pulling her over the railing. Nancy saw her father with his arms wrapped around Frank's waist, almost sitting down on the pedestrian path in the effort to help pull Nancy back over the side. Finally she was up and over, rewarded with fresh bruises as her body toppled onto the concrete, Frank falling next to her. Frank rolled over and held her tightly, holding her to him like she was a life preserver in the middle of the ocean. The two sat up and Frank wrapped his arms around Nancy's waist from behind.
Dazed, Nancy struggled within Frank's grip to gaze at her surroundings. Impossibly, her father was fine, and there was one dead body and one person handcuffed to the railing. "You're hurt," she remembered, turning around and searching Frank's body for signs of his injury.
Frank pointed to his chest. "Once again I owe my life to the people who created this vest. But broken ribs have to heal on their own."
Nancy, Carson, Fenton, and Frank heard the sound of sirens, and saw people in uniform running toward them from the base of the bridge in Philadelphia. "Perfect timing as always," Carson muttered, removing his belt.
Frank pulled out his phone and checked the messages. "Joe and Mom are all right," he announced, "and with even more low-lifes who can tell us where this gang's chemical lab is."
Fenton shut his eyes in relief, a pool of blood surrounding his knee, and Frank jumped up to help Carson apply the tourniquet. The footsteps grew louder, and Nancy took back the vial to make sure it wouldn't break. Once they'd finished basic first aid for Fenton, Nancy suddenly thought of something.
"Frank, what time is it?" she asked hurriedly.
Anxious again, Frank checked his watch. "It's 11:13, why?"
Nancy nodded. "Good, it's not November yet. Will you be my boyfriend, Frank Hardy?"
Frank looked at her, mouth agape, in stunned surprise. Carson laughed and clapped, and Fenton's eyes would have twinkled if they were able to.
"I thought you'd never ask," Frank murmured into her left ear, and pulled her in for a kiss as the officers approached.