Chapter 35
Jennie
As the new sound reaches my ears, my adrenaline levels spike. I didn't know it was possible to feel like this—numb and acutely alive at the same time. My heart is racing a million miles a minute, and my skin is tingling with prickles of icy fear. However, the panic that gripped me earlier is gone; it disappeared at some point between the second and third explosion.
Apparently one can get used to anything, even cars blowing up.
Gripping the weapon Lisa gave me, I hold on to the seat with my free hand, unable to look away from the battle taking place outside the car window. The road behind us is like something out of a war zone, with crashed and burning cars littering the empty stretch of narrow highway.
It's as if we're in a video game, except the casualties are real.
Boom! One press of a controller button, and a car goes flying. Boom! Another car. Boom! Boom! I catch myself mentally directing each grenade, as though I can guide Lisa's aim with my thoughts.
A game. Just a realistic shooting game with stunning sound effects. If I frame it like that, I can cope. I can pretend there aren't dozens of burning corpses behind us, both on our side and on theirs. I can tell myself the person I love isn't standing in the middle of the limo holding a grenade launcher, her head and upper body exposed to the hail of gunfire outside.
Yes, a game—in which there's now a helicopter. I can hear it, and when I climb up on the seat and lean closer to the window, I can see it too.
It's a police chopper, heading directly for us.
It should be a relief that the authorities are trying to intercede—except the blockade we just went through didn't seem like an attempt to restore law and order. I saw the police cruiser pursuing us right alongside Sullivan's forces; they weren't trying to arrest all the criminals involved in this deadly chase.
They were trying to take us out.
A new wave of terror washes over me, puncturing my false calm. This is not a game. There are people dying all around us, and if it weren't for the armor on this limo and Bambam's driving skills, we'd already be dead too. If it were just me, it wouldn't matter as much. But everyone I love is in this car. If something happens to them—
No, stop. I feel myself starting to hyperventilate, and I force the thought away. I can't afford to panic now. Glancing toward the front, I see my parents huddling together on the seat, gripping their seatbelts. They're so pale, they look almost green. I think they're both in shock now, since my mom is no longer screaming.
The limo takes a sharp right turn, nearly throwing me off the seat.
"I'm going for the hangar!" Bambam yells from the front, and I realize we just turned off the highway onto an even narrower road. The small airport looms directly ahead, beckoning with the promise of salvation. The roar of the helicopter is directly above us now, but if we can get to our plane and take off—
Boom! My vision goes dark, all sounds fading for a second. Gasping, I clutch at the edge of the seat, desperately trying to hang on as the limo swerves and speeds up even more. As my senses return, I realize that the guards' SUV directly behind us was hit. There's now a gaping, smoking hole in its roof. I watch in horrified shock as it careens into another one of our cars, colliding with it with shattering force. Tires squeal, and then both cars are rolling off the road in a tangle of crushed metal.
The police chopper shot at us, I realize with a jolt of panic. It shot at us and took out two of our cars, leaving only one guard vehicle to protect us.
Turning, I cast a frantic glance at the front window again. The hangar where our plane is parked is close, so close. Just a few hundred yards, and we'll be there. Surely we can survive that long—
Boom! My ears ringing, I twist to see the Hummer behind us go up in flames. Lisa must've hit it, I realize with relief. There's just the helicopter and two SUVs pursuing us now, and we still have guards in that last SUV. Another couple of shots like that, and we'll be safe—
"Jennie!" Powerful arms wrap around my waist, dragging me down to the floor. A furious Lisa is kneeling over me, her face like thunder. "I fucking told you to stay down!"
In a split second, I register two things: she's uninjured, and her hands are empty.
The grenade launcher must be out of ammunition.
Boom! A blast rocks the limo, sending us both flying. I'm vaguely aware that Lisa twists around me, protecting me with her body, but I still feel the brutal impact as we slam into the partition. All air leaves my lungs, and the interior of the car spins around me, my vision blurring as something sharp bites at my skin. My head is pounding from the inside, as though my brain is struggling to get out.
"Jennie!" Lisa's voice reaches through the ringing whine in my ears. Dazed, I try to focus in on her. As some of the blurriness clears, I realize we're on the floor again, with her lying on top of me. Her face is covered with blood; it's trickling down, dripping on me. She's also saying something, but her words don't register in my mind.
All I see is the vicious, deadly red of her blood.
"You're hurt." The terrified croak bears little resemblance to my voice. "Lisa, you're hurt—"
She grips my jaw, hard, stunning me into silence. "Listen to me," she grits out. "In exactly a minute, I'm going to need you to run. Do you understand me? Run straight for the fucking plane and don't stop, no matter what."
I stare at her, uncomprehending. Drip. Drip. Drip. The red drops keep coming down. I can feel the wetness on my face, taste the metallic warmth on my lips. Her eyes are bright amidst all that red, blue and incredibly beautiful . . .
"Jennie!" she roars, shaking me. "Do you understand me?"
Some of the ringing in my skull abates, and the meaning of her words finally reaches me.
Run. She wants me to run.
"What about—" you, I want to say, but she cuts me off.
"You'll take your parents, and you will all fucking run." Her voice is sharp enough to cut through steel, her gaze burning into me. "You'll have the gun with you, but I don't want you playing hero. Do you understand, Jennie?"
I manage a small nod. "Yes." Through the pounding in my temples, I realize the car is still going, still driving despite whatever it was that hit us. I can hear the helicopter hovering over us, but we're alive for now. "Yes, I understand."
"Good." She holds my gaze for a couple of moments longer, and then, as if unable to resist, she lowers her head and takes my mouth in a hard, searing kiss. I taste the salt and metal of her blood, and the unique flavor that is Lisa, and I want her to keep kissing me, to make me forget the nightmare we're in. All too soon, though, her lips move over to my neck, and I feel the warmth of her breath as she whispers in my ear, "Please get yourself and your parents to the plane, baby. Thomas is already there, and he can pilot the plane if need be. Bambam will take care of Rosé. This is our only chance to get out of this alive, so when I tell you to run, you run. I'll be right behind you, okay?"
And before I can say anything, she jumps up and pulls me to my knees, handing me the AK-47 that I'd dropped. My head spins from the sudden movement, but I shake off the dizziness, gripping the weapon with all my strength. Everything feels off, my body strangely uncooperative, but I'm able to focus enough to see that the rear window is gone and there's smoke rising from the back of the car. To my relief, my parents are still strapped into their seats, bleeding and dazed-looking but alive.
The back window must've shattered, sending fragments of glass flying into the car—which explains the blood on them and Lisa.
The limo begins slowing down, and Lisa grips my jaw again, bringing my attention back to her. "In ten seconds," she says harshly, "I'm going to open this door and come out. In that moment, you escape through the other door. Understand, Jennie? You jump out and run like hell."
I nod, and when she releases me, I turn to my parents. "Take off your seatbelts," I say hoarsely. "We're going to make a run for the plane as soon as the car stops."
My mom doesn't react, her face blank with shock, but my dad begins fumbling with the seatbelt buckles. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the hangar coming up, and I frantically begin helping my parents, determined to free them before the car stops.
I succeed in unbuckling my mom's seatbelt, but my dad's seems stuck, and we both desperately tug at it, our hands in each other's way as the limo barrels through a tall, open gate into a warehouse-like building.
"Hurry!" Lisa shouts as the limo screeches to a halt. I'm nearly thrown again, but I manage to hang on to the seatbelt strap.
"Now, Jennie!" Lisa yells, throwing open her door. "Go now!"
The seatbelt buckle finally pops loose, and I grab my dad's hand as he grabs my mom's. Pushing open the opposite door, we scramble out of the car, falling onto our hands and knees. My heart pounding, I swivel my head, looking for our plane, and then I see it.
It's standing near the exit on the opposite side of the hangar, with a dozen other planes between us and it.
"This way!" I jump to my feet, tugging at my dad. "Come on, we have to go!"
We start running. Behind us, there is another screech of brakes, followed by a furious burst of gunfire. Twisting my head, I see Lisa and Bambam shooting at an SUV that just barreled into the building behind us. Rosé is running too; she's right on our heels. My heart hammering, I slow down, everything inside me screaming to turn back, to help Bambam and Lisa, but then I recall her words.
Our best chance of survival lies in getting everyone to that plane. Even with my help, my parents are barely functioning as is.
So I suppress the urge to rush back toward the limo and instead yell, "Hurry!" to Rosé, who's nearly caught up with us. Then the four of us are running again, my dad towing my mom along. He's deathly pale and his eyes look wild, but he's putting one foot in front of another, and that's all I need him to do at the moment. If we get through this, I'll worry about the impact on my parents' psyche and agonize about my role in all this.
For now, our only task is survival.
Still, even knowing this, I can't stop myself from casting frantic glances behind us as we run. Fear for Lisa is a giant knot in my stomach. I can't imagine losing her again. I don't think I'd survive it.
The first time I glance back, I see that Lisa and Bambam took shelter behind the limo and are exchanging fire with men hiding behind the SUV. There are already two corpses on the ground, and a bloody hole in the SUV's windshield.
Even in my panic, I feel a flash of pride. My wife and her right-hand man know what they're doing when it comes to taking lives.
The second glance I steal reveals an even better situation. Four enemy corpses and Bambam making his way around the limo to get at the remaining shooter while Lisa provides cover fire.
By the third glance, the final shooter is eliminated, and the gunfire stops, the hangar oddly silent after all the racket. I see Bambam and Lisa on their feet, apparently uninjured, and tears of joy start rolling down my cheeks.
We did it. We survived.
We're already by the plane, and I see Thomas, the driver from my hair appointment, standing by the open door. "Please get them inside," I tell him in a shaking voice, and he nods, shepherding my parents and Rosé up the stairs. "I'll be with you in a second," I tell my dad when he tries to get me to join them. "I just need a moment." Liberating myself from his grip, I turn back toward the limo.
"Lisa!" Raising the AK-47 above my head, I wave at her with the weapon. "Over here! Come, let's go!"
She looks at me, and I see a huge smile light up her face.
Half-laughing, half-crying, I begin to run toward her, cognizant of nothing but my joy—and then the wall next to the limo explodes, sending her and Bambam flying.