“Cole keeps drifting in and out of it. He’s out now.”
“What about Alik?”
“He’s in a world of hurt. His face is all swollen and I don’t like the raspy sound he has started making when he breathes.”
“And the girl?”
“I don’t know, man. I think she’s barely hanging on.”
“The family can fix them up, though, right?” Creed tried to keep his voice upbeat, but he’d seen the damage those chemicals had done to Alik’s face and he’d seen soldiers die from fewer bullet wounds than Kylie suffered.
“Of course we’ll get them fixed up.” Evan’s voice was an octave too high to be believable.
The boys exchanged worried glances.
“We should be nearing the billboard soon,” Creed offered to change the subject—in case anyone in the back seat was listening.
“Soon,” Evan agreed.
“Where are we?” a groggy voice asked from the back seat.
“Hey Cole, good to see you awake,” Creed said glancing at the beaten kid through his rearview mirror. “We’re nearly at the billboard. Just a few more minutes and we should see—”
“There it is!” Evan interrupted excitedly.
Creed followed Evan’s line of sight and found the silhouette of the billboard against the starry night sky.
“He’s right, Cole. It’s there.”
“Yay,” he offered weakly before letting his head fall back against the headrest with a thud.
“They’ve got to see us by now,” Evan said mostly to himself.
“They’re watching,” Creed nodded. “Farrow and Sloan will be able to see us if we can see them.”
The car full of battle-weary metahumans plus one wildcard picked up speed, closing the distance between them and the family they could now see was anxiously waiting for them.
When they pulled off the highway and stopped near the family van, it was sheer relief that gave them the strength to pour out of the sedan and embrace the family they had just risked their lives to save.
“Thank you God, for my children,” Margo kept murmuring as she reached up from her wheelchair with open arms, embracing each boy in turn and kissing them on the cheek as only a mom can.
“Where’s Alik?” Margo shifted in her seat to try to see into the sedan.
RRROOAAARR
“What the hell?” Evan looked up into the night sky. His light-brown hair was tousled around.
“I thought we’d have more time before the sandstorm,” Theo yelled over the growing roar of a pounding wind.
22 Farrow’s Turn to Fight
“This is no sandstorm!” Farrow screamed over the noise. “It’s a chopper! Get everybody out of here!” The soldier in her recognized the wind pattern tangling her pixie locks.
They followed us with aerial night vision. Shit!
Theo scooped Margo straight from her chair and raced with her in his arms back to the van. Evan and Creed bolted to the sedan. Maze was barking ear-piercing warnings to the family as he herded Danny back to the van. Sloan reached down, picked up the little boy and hurriedly tossed him into the van before grabbing several bottles of water from the package at Danny’s feet and rushing back to the sedan.
Farrow had darted to the van but only to load Margo’s wheelchair and grab her rifle. She slammed the door closed on the wide-eyed expressions on the faces of the people who had become her family. She shouldered her weapon and pointed it to the sky, ready for battle. When the van didn’t move, she slapped the door with her hand. “GO!” She shrieked and waved frantically to Theo to drive away.
“What about you?”
“I’ve got this! Get them to the airport.”
For a half second, the middle-aged doctor locked eyes with the trained assassin before nodding once. With equal amounts of terror and respect for the girl he was leaving behind, Theo punched the van back onto the highway and floored it. The tires spun uselessly on the road rapidly being covered with the blowing sand before the four-wheel drive kicked in, gripping the road in desperation. The sedan with the other half of the family was right on their tail. Creed drove skillfully, controlling the car with a deft touch.
Knowing the family trusted her to take out the enemy steeled her resolve.
Leave my family alone! She mentally screamed as she tasted grit between her clenched teeth. She closed her eyes against the blowing sand and used her other senses to tell her where to aim. The roar and gushing wind was starting to move away from her as the chopper adjusted trajectory to follow the cars. Farrow adjusted her blind aim.
She could smell the fumes, hear the blades whipping the Egyptian night sky and feel the sand stinging her face and eyelids.
She took a slow breath in, aimed instinctively and squeezed the trigger.
Pop, pop, pop
She listened to the impact of the bullets tear through metal and had time to smile with satisfaction before hearing the blades of the chopper angle dangerously close.