Everything rolls.
Upside down. Right side up. Upside down.
The crunching glass and bending metal sound quiet. Too quiet. Muted compared to the explosion that went off under the road.
The vehicle stops, the passenger side crunching against the ground a dozen yards away from where we started.
I don’t wait.
Don’t check for wounds.
I just grip the handle above my driver-side door with my left hand and undo my seat belt with my right while bracing my knee against the center console so I don’t crash down on top of Val.
“Valentine!” I shout.
My voice echoes in the small space, and I have to blink to clear my vision.
She’s slumped against her door, the muddy ground of the drainage ditch pressed against her window.
Keeping hold of the handle, I swing my legs free and stretch down until I’m standing on her doorframe, my back to the windshield, covering my wife.
“Val!” I shout louder, panic infusing my voice.
And then she moves.
Her hand lifts.
“I-I’m okay,” she croaks, but I hear it.
She’s not okay.
Only, there’s no time to do this right.
“Come on, Angel.” It’s hard to maneuver in a vehicle tipped on its side, but I manage to crouch down and undo the belt that saved her life. “We gotta move.”
My hands reach her shoulders just as the automatic gunfire starts.
The sound of heavy metal slamming into the underside of our SUV peppers the air.
Valentine scrambles up, and I stay crouched over her as she climbs between the seats toward the back.
A round hits the windshield. Followed by a dozen more.
I had enough time to see the vehicle in front of us get totally fucked up in the explosion before we rolled off the road. They’re out of the game. And I have no idea what condition the other two cars are in.
And if you don’t know, you have to assume they’re out.
So it’s just me.
Just me and my fucking wife.
I keep my hands on Valentine as I help her climb through the wreckage past the second row of seats.
The windshield spiderwebs behind us.
Bulletproof glass is only good for so many rounds.
It’s meant to get you through the shit, not to hunker down in the middle of it.
More gunfire.
I listen for a half a heartbeat. It’s not automatic, but a different caliber.
My men.
The return fire will keep the enemy on the front side of our location.
“Right here.” I push Valentine into the corner between the back of the rear seat and the passenger side wall that’s against the ground.
She drops down, sitting with her back to the seat.
I kneel in front of her. “I need you to stay right here.” Her eyes are wild. Full of tears. “Tell me you will stay right here.”
She’s nodding, even as she begs me, “Don’t go.”
I grip her face and kiss her. Hard.
“Call your brother and don’t fucking move.” I press my phone into her hands and move to the floor of the car, which is vertical on the opposite wall of our confined space.
The trap door is a little bent, but I tear it off, revealing my weapons.
The gun in my holster won’t do it against multiple combatants. But this will give us a chance.
