Being chased while trying to talk on the phone wasn't something Morgan was very good at, and he slowed down a little because of it.
"This is Morgan."
"Morgan, this is Leaf. Whatever you're doing over in Colorado Springs, I want you to stop it. Immediately."
If he hadn't been driving, Phillip Morgan would have stared at the phone in disbelief. Leaf was the one who had sent him here, and was ultimately responsible for what had happened the last couple of day – and for the car chase he was in just then.
"Sir? I don't think I heard you correctly…"
"You heard me just fine, goddamn it!" Leaf's voice was almost shrill, and Morgan wondered what the heck was going on, because the older man sounded almost terrified. "Stop it! Now!"
"I'm afraid that would be difficult, sir…" Morgan said, then accidentally dropped the phone when he almost lost control of the SUV trying to turn a sharp corner one-handed and going way too fast.
Bennett scrambled for it, and by the time he picked it up off the passenger side floor they could both clearly hear Leaf yelling at them that he didn't give a shit how difficult it would be, he wanted then to stop immediately. Bennett handed the phone to Morgan again, knowing the last person he wanted to talk to just then was Leaf, and clutched the leather handle above the passenger side window, bracing himself as they turned sharply once more.
River had had enough.
The cadet had been watching the traffic ahead of them, skipping back and forth between afraid to concerned and then back to afraid again. He wasn't so much worried about himself; but he could just see them ramming the big SUV into some innocent person's car and killing someone who hadn't been doing anything more dangerous than grocery shopping or going for a weekend drive, and he couldn't stand that thought.
The Californian didn't know who was chasing them that Morgan was so afraid of, or who the Admiral Leaf guy was that Morgan was talking to, but he didn't care, really. He just wanted this mad dash through the streets to stop, and the moment he saw they had reached an industrial area – no houses or shoppers and far less traffic – he made his own move.
Diving forward, startling Pleasant and Smith both, River went between the passenger and the driver's seat, and grabbed the steering wheel in his hands, turning it sharply to the right.
"Hey! Don't-"
Morgan hadn't been expecting anything from the mostly quiet passenger, and had been far too absorbed with his driving and the conversation with Leaf to watch him in the rearview mirror like he had been earlier. He dropped the phone once more and grabbed the wheel with both hands, trying to correct the turn. But it was far too late. The big SUV slammed into a telephone pole going way too fast – although its momentum had slowed a little because of the turn – and came to a crashing halt.
None of them were wearing seatbelts, but River was the worst of them because he wasn't even in a seat, and when the suburban slammed to a stop, the Californian went crashing through the already shattered front windshield and went tumbling off the mangled hood, rolling to a stop several feet away and lying still, bloody and limp.
Morgan slammed into the steering wheel, but the airbag had deployed, and instead of cracking his face on the hard wheel, he instead slammed into an almost solid pillow. The buckling front end of the car smashed into his legs, however, pinning him in his seat and eliciting a scream of pain from him before he passed out.
Bennett, who was in the passenger seat, was also thrown through the windshield, but his leg snapped as it, too, was caught by the buckling front end. Shrieking in terror and shock, he tumbled across River's inert form, and went still when his head slammed into the pavement.
The two men in the back seat were a little better off – kind of. Both were slammed into the back of the seats in front of them, breaking bones, but the main force of the impact had been absorbed by the people in the front of the SUV, and the more or less cushioned seatbacks gave them a little protection as they crashed. Neither passed out, although both were dazed, and Smith's hand came up to his face, where he could feel the trickle of blood along his cheek.
"Shit!"
Ian's convertible came to a screeching halt the minute the SUV crashed, and both of them saw the horrifying sight of River and another man tumble out in front of the demolished rig. Shawn couldn't believe what he was seeing, because he hadn't until that moment actually understood why they were chasing the SUV and wondered how Ian had known.
"Oh, my God!"
Both of them jumped out of the car – the top was down and neither used their doors – but Ian grabbed Shawn before he could take a step towards the wrecked SUV. Luckily, he grabbed him by the uninjured shoulder.
"Get my gun, Shawn."
Shawn hesitated, but nodded, and turned back to the car while Ian rushed around the now-smoking suburban and dropped down next to River's unconscious form. Without concern for Bennett, he pulled the man off his roommate, ignoring the groan of pain, and rolled him out of the way, and then turned to River, his heart pounding as he took in the battered and bloody Californian.
Resting one hand on his friend's bloody chest, Ian closed his eyes allowing his awareness or whatever it was that the Ancients called it, to sink into River, searching for the worst of the injuries, much in the same way he'd checked little Jake O'Neill – and for that matter, Sam – when they'd needed him. There were numerous injuries, most of them not all that serious. The few that were, were the ones that Ian took care of, quickly and without conscious thought. He simply allowed that healing energy that he now knew how to tap into to flow from him into River, mending punctured lungs and other organs and realigning a broken skull and seriously mangled and broken leg.
The other injuries would heal without his help, and when Ian opened his eyes, he looked down at River who didn't look quite so pale anymore and wasn't having trouble breathing. The Californian had a nasty cut on his forehead – which had also been where his skull had been fractured – but Ian didn't have time to heal the little things. He couldn't leave Shawn to face whoever else might have survived alone. Gasping and trying to catch his breath, feeling a weariness that threatened to make him pass out, Ian stood up, double checking to make sure the guy that he'd pulled off River wasn't going to be a threat once he'd turned his back on him. Then he turned back to the SUV, looking for Shawn.
The glove box had been locked, and it'd taken Shawn precious minutes to pull the keys out of the ignition and unlock the car. One hand wasn't working quite right and was slippery with blood, making it that much more difficult. By the time he pulled Ian's Glock out of the car and rushed over to see what needed to be done, he could hear sirens in the background. And breathed a sigh of relief.
The back door of the SUV opened, and a man tumbled out, landing on the ground in front of Shawn, who turned the gun on him. He knew one of these guys was armed – he'd been shot, after all – and wasn't going to take any chances. No matter how messed up they looked.
"Stay put," Shawn ordered.
The man didn't look like he was in any condition to disobey, and Shawn looked up as Ian staggered over.
"You okay?" The New Yorker asked.
"I think I broke my-"
"Not you," Ian said, in disgust, looking down at Smith, who had spoken up from where he lay on the ground by Shawn's feet. "I couldn't give a shit less how you feel, you slimy sonofabitch."
"I'm okay," Shawn said.
Ian took hold of Shawn's jacket and pulled him a few steps back and out of reach of Smith – just in case.
"Keep him covered. I'm going to check on the other guys."
Shawn nodded, looking down at Smith, who had closed his eyes, and Ian went to the passenger door and forced it open. One of the guys from the meeting at the jogging track was slumped in the passenger seat, bloody and battered, but alive, and when Ian reached out to check for a pulse, a cell phone clattered to the ground, startling him. He could hear someone shouting from the other end, and stared, amazed.
They'd been talking on the phone? Who the fuck made a phone call while being chased and after kidnapping someone?
"Morgan! Morgan! What happened? What are you doing?"
The voice was so clear that even Shawn turned to look, and Ian scowled, reaching down and picking up the phone.
"Who the fuck is this?"