?Don?t make any more calls. I don?t know if they can trace them. You stay right there, Georgia. Don?t you fucking dare move!? The connection cut with a sharp, final click. In the distance, I heard tires squealing against the road.
Shaun had sounded panicked. Rick and Buffy were out of communication, the truck was on fire, my bike was down, and Shaun was panicking. That could only mean one thing: It was time to take cover.
Slamming my helmet back over my head, I ducked behind my bike and started surveying the surrounding hills. Short of a rocket launcher, there wasn?t much that stood a viable chance of killing me in my body armor. Hurting me, yes, but killing me, not really.
There was nothing. No lights, no signs of motion; nothing.
??ia? Come in, Georgia??
?Rick?? I nodded to the right, confirming the connection. ?Rick, is that you? Are you okay? Are you hurt??
?I?m fine. Air bag stopped me from hitting the roof.? He coughed. ?Chest?s a little banged up, and Lois is pissed as hell, but otherwise, we?re okay. You??
?Didn?t dump the bike. I?m fine. Any word from Buffy??
There was a pause. Finally, he said, ?No. I was hoping she?d called you.?
?Did you try to call her??
?No word.?
?Damn. Rick, what happened??
?You mean you don?t know?? He sounded genuinely surprised. ?Georgia, somebody shot out my damn tires.?
?Shot? What do you mean, sh?? Shaun came blasting around the curve of the road and off the pavement, moving so fast that our hydraulically balanced and weighted van nearly rocked onto two tires. ?Shaun?s here. We?ll be right there to get you. Georgia out.?
?Clear.? The connection clicked off.
I pulled my helmet back off and climbed to my feet, waving my hands in the air. Shaun spotted the motion and turned the van toward my location, screeching to a stop beside me. The doors unlocked, and Shaun was throwing himself out of the driver?s-side door, his heels slipping on the gravel-covered ground as he ran over to throw his arms around me. I let him crush me against his chest, taking a deep breath.
?You okay?? he asked, not letting go.
?You didn?t get a blood test before coming over here.?
?Don?t need one. If you were infected, I?d know,? Shaun said, and let me go. ?I repeat, you okay??
?I?m okay.? I climbed in the open van door, sliding over to settle in the passenger seat. Shaun got in behind me. ?You okay??
?Better now,? Shaun said, turning the engine back on and slamming his foot down on the gas. The van leapt forward into a wide curve, rocketing toward Rick?s car. ?You hear the shots??
?Bike was too loud. How many??
?Eight. Two for each of us.? He glanced at me. For a brief moment, I saw the raw worry in his eyes. ?If they?d nailed both your tires??
?I?d be dead.? I leaned forward to open the glove compartment and pull out the .45 I keep there. Suddenly, being outside without a gun in my hand didn?t seem like a good idea. ?If whoever did this had done their damn homework, you?d be dead, too, so let?s not dwell. Word from Buffy??
?None.?
?Great.? I pulled back the slide, checking the chamber. Satisfied by my bullet count, I let the slide rack back into place. ?So, is this enough excitement for you??
?Maybe a bit much,? he said. For once in his life, he sounded like he meant it.
It was true, though. If our attackers had done their homework, Shaun wouldn?t have been driving; he?d have been dying. Normal tires blow when they take a bullet. Even armor plating won?t prevent that. But some vehicles are too damn valuable to lose just because you lose a tire, and most vehicles in that class are the sort likely to draw heavy gunfire. So scientists developed a type of tire that doesn?t give a damn about gunshots. They?re called run flats: You put a bullet in them, and they keep on rolling. I might have skipped them?I did skip them on my bike, where they made the ride unbearably choppy?but Shaun insisted. He bought a new set every year.
For the first time since we got the van, it didn?t seem like a waste of money.
Shaun focused on driving, and I focused on trying to page Buffy and Chuck, using every band and communications device we had. We knew communications weren?t being jammed; at least some of my messages should have made it through. There were no replies on any channel. I?d been terrified. That?s when I started to get numb.
Shaun pulled up next to Rick?s car. ?Think there?s still a shooter out there??
?Doubtful.? I slid the gun into my pocket. ?This was a targeted operation. They only took out our cars. If they?d been sticking around to make sure they killed us, you?d have kept taking bullets. And I made a damn good target when I first stopped my bike.?
?Hope you?re right,? said Shaun, and opened his door.