Chapter 8.
The car slammed into the toppled pole with a deafening crunch. The frame crumpled like a tin can on impact, with Falco crushed between the steering wheel and a jagged car door. Shards of glass hurled into the air and scattered across the road. The driver's side mirror tumbled down the street, mangled and shattered.
The panting Cornerians inside the slowing squad car unbuckled their seatbelts. Slippy continued to stare, mouth agape, and Bill Grey snatched a hand radio receiver into a meaty paw and pressed the button as he looked on.
"Sergeant, this is 2-2," he said. "We have a Code 11, State Route 471 northbound at the road closure. We need medical assistance. Repeat, we need medical assistance now."
"Copy, 2-2. We'll get somebody down there. Do you have a 20 on the driver?"
"Yeah. It's Falco Lombardi."
"Falco Lombardi?" The female voice paused. "All right, we'll get an ambulance out there."
The hound sighed and replied into the radio as he and Slippy slid from the car. The two gawked at the smashed mass of metal as he and Slippy tiptoed through the shattered glass.
"Oh, man. Buddy, can you hear me?" He maneuvered his paw through the razor-edged glass of the window's jagged remains and pressed two fingers underneath Falco's beak.
"Sergeant, Falco is alive. Repeat: Falco Lombardi is alive." He turned back to Falco and said, "Hang in there, bird, help's on the way."
"How's he doing?"
"He's hanging in there. Man, how'd he get in this mess, Slip? What was he doing driving Fox's car?"
"I don't want to believe it, but I'll bet he stole it."
"Why would he steal Fox's car?"
"His convertible was still at that bar. If he was drunk, Fox had to give him a ride."
"You dragged Fox into this?" Bill said. "Seriously, Slippy, what is it with you getting involved?"
"I can't help it, Bill. Besides, didn't Katt tell you what Falco's been doing? He's been asking her for money. He called it a loan...but he spent it on liquor."
Bill stared blankly at Slippy. "Get out of here."
"It's true. We tracked Falco down after he got into a brawl on the base. After that, Katt called when Falco didn't make it home..." Slippy paused. "Hang on. I feel a little warm."
"Slip, look!" Bill stabbed a finger at the car. "The engine's on fire!" He pulled his radio from his belt. "Sergeant, we need a fire truck on 471 at the road closure. We need it now!"
"Copy that."
Slippy's globe-shaped eyes flicked back and forth at the car. "We can pry the door open."
"Are you crazy!?"
"If that fire gets any closer, Falco's going to combust."
"We can't pry a door off!"
"Never say never. Come on!"
They leapt toward the distorted driver's door and clutched the window well, pulling and straining until their joints screamed. They could hear the door creaking free from the frame. With every jerk, twisted metal and jagged edges of glass cut deeper into their flesh, but they pulled harder—
Slippy let out a cry as he flew backward onto the road. Bill caught a drop of blood out of the corner of his eye. He followed the razor edge of the twisted metal...down to the crevice in Slippy's arm.
"Oh, my God—"
"Forget it, I'm fine!" Slippy bounded back to his feet and ripped his coat from his shoulders, wrapping it around his marred forearm in a hurry. "Bill, we can't move that steering column without a hacksaw. Get into the backseat. Pull on the seat from behind; I'll push on it from the front. Maybe we can slide it out enough to get him loose."
"Right."
Bill crawled over the steering column, scrambling as the heat bristled against his fur. He wove between the front seats that had been mashed side by side by the impact. Once he looked over their shoulders and saw towering flames belching black smoke from the back. The licking flames snapped and lunged at the sky as the smoke clogged their lungs. As the smoke thickened and surrounded them in a brown cloud, the snapping flames turned into a roar.
"Slip, listen to that!"
"Yeah, the tank's about to blow!" Slippy shouted. "Now pull. PULL!"
Bill gripped the back of the seat with sweaty paws. He sank his fingertips into the cushion, but his grip was weak. Slippy pressed on a lever at the base of the seat, and Bill gave it another tug. The seat sank backward against him, pinning him against the rear of the car.
"You OK?" Slippy yelled.
"I'm fine! You got 'im?"
Slippy scooped Falco into his chubby arms. The amphibian buckled a little, grabbing his balance, but he stood up tall. "Yeah. Let's go!"
Bill kicked out the rest of the rear window's glass and pushed his feet and legs out the opening. As his legs landed on the ledge, he threw back his head, and warm blood puddled against the backs of his thighs. A few stray shards had torn into him, and a blade of it broke off in his thigh. He dropped to the pavement, clutching his pants.
"Bill?"
"I'm all right, Slip. Get him away from here."
Bill and Slippy hobbled out of the smoke's shade and began to taste breezes of fresh air. A loud cry stopped Slippy in his tracks as he whirled around and saw Bill stumbling. Blood streamed down Bill's shin as he said, "Keep going!"
Bill hobbled up to Slippy, fighting back the gurgling nausea that swept through him in waves of sweat. The amphibian laid Falco on the pavement, ripped off his jacket from his chubby arms and wrapped Falco's arm. "Broken," he said between coughs. "It's not a splint, but it's what we've got."
Bill nodded his head and clenched a fist, covering his mouth as he coughed. Once he reached Falco and Slippy, he buckled onto the pavement, winded and trying to catch his breath.
"It's all right, Bill. Take it easy..." Slippy caught him as he knelt over, and the amphibian let out a hoarse cough.
"He's gonna make it," Bill said, taking off his outer shirt and wrapping it around a marred leg. He pulled off his left shoe and wrapped his sock around the gash along his leg. He and Slippy caught their gagging breath as they inhaled the fresh air—
The pavement filled their eyes as a blast shoved them back. A cloud of flames swallowed the car, shattering the windows. The noise rocked the ground and hurled car parts and shards of glass into the sky. A mangled car door blew out from the frame, tumbling with a loud crash onto the ground. Sirens wailed down the street as the ambulance and a fire truck rounded the corner.
Bill stumbled to his feet and let out a sigh. He swung back to look back at the inferno, his jaw agape. "Slip, you know something? You're a hero. 'Til now, I thought it would be a fantasy."
"Thanks, man!" A big smile lined his broad face, but it fell as he turned to Bill. "Wait...what?"