The minute that the group piled into the bus, John gunned the engine and made an immediate U-turn and a sharp right turn onto the main drag. All the while, John was ramming his fist into the speedometer and screaming, "COME ON! COME ON!" Suddenly, his cell phone rang.
He flipped it open only to hear Dylan smugly ask, "So...what'd ya think?"
"YOU SICK MOTHERFUCKER! I'M GONNA CUT YOUR FUCKIN' THROAT--"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, John-boy! Don't get all pushy with me or I won't let you talk to Frankie."
John gritted his teeth, swallowed hard and asked, "Frankie? PUT HER ON!"
"Allrighty, then." On the other end of the line, Dylan walked over to Frankie, ripped the tape off of her mouth, pressed the phone to her ear and said, "Talk to him."
"John?" she asked. "John, can you hear me?"
John's heart soared as he cried, "FRANKIE! Frankie, oh Christ, are you okay? Where are you?"
"We're in building eight! Building eight!"
John openly wept as he screamed, "Frankie, we're coming! Wilt, Ed, Coco, Herriman, Mac, Bloo, your grandma, me--we're coming to get you! We're coming! GODDAMMIT, WE'RE COMING!"
"John, please be careful! PLEASE!" At the warehouse, Dylan pulled the phone away and said, "Now that you know she's still alive...come on down. I'll be waiting."
When Dylan hung up the phone, John screamed and started hammering the steering wheel, shouting "FUCK!" over and over again. Mac noticed that they were getting close and said, "John, slow down!"
"WHY?"
"We're here." As he said this, John drove through the wooden caution arm and kept going...building 3...building 4...
"Co co coco co!" Coco suggested.
"I know! I know!"
Building 5...building 6...building 7...
"There it is, Master Jonathan! Stop!" John slammed on the brakes, causing the bus to fishtail and spin halfway around before stopping nearly right at the front door of building eight. John cut the engine and raced over to Mr. Herriman, saying, "Herriman, if I don't come out with Frankie in ten minutes, I want all of you to get in there!"
"Master Jonathan, you can't seriously--"
"TEN MINUTES! TIME ME!" As he turned to leave, Madame Foster grabbed his shirt and said, "Kick his ass, Johnny. Kick his ass." John smiled, nodded, and plunged out of the bus and into building eight. One way or another, someone was going to die.