Page 50 of Trusted Instinct
This looked like the streets of Afghanistan after a bomb went off. The lifelessness in the eyes that turned toward him told him that the injuries were severe, and the passengers focused all of their energy on surviving the pain.
He wanted to pull open the doors and render aid to each one.
But orders were in place for a reason.
One thing Creed hadn’t been prepared to include in his survey was, “They’re going to need the jaws of life.” And a step farther down. “This one’s standing on end. They’re going to need some kind of crane to get it off the one in front. I can’t see how many were in that car.”
Sometimes the computer couldn’t differentiate Creed’s voice from the wailing and the calls for help. He’d have to step back and repeat the information slowly and clearly so that it could be hand-entered into the system.
Looking over his shoulder, Creed focused on Gator coming up behind him with a much more challenging job. He had to look at each person and make the call. He might well be writing their death sentence and all from a glance in the window.
The men were used to this kind of life-or-death situation. But used to it didn’t mean anesthetized. It was something that they’d need to process after the fact.
Creed could hear the snap crinkle as Deep busted a window. “Tourniquet,” he’d yell toward his phone dangling in its waterproof pouch from a lanyard around his neck. His Logistics professional would put a pin in that exact spot.
Creed took another step. “Single male, sixties.” Two more steps, he swiped his hand over the window to see past the raindrops. “Two middle-aged males.”
With a squeal and crash, another car hit the pileup, jostling and repositioning the mound.
Creed remembered having a collection of cars as a child and how he liked to roll them into each other, making crashing, exploding sounds that mimicked what went on in his imagination. He liked to sling them along so they would flip and roll. It had been his goal to see if he couldn’t get them to pile high like crawdaddy chimneys in the mud.
Creed moved further, pushed himself to go faster while getting the data right.
At least the storm seemed to have eased a bit. The sun wasn’t out, but the rain that had come down in fat droplets at stinging velocity turned to a vision-obscuring mist.
His phone buzzed.
Doli was on his line. It was against protocol, but he had to break communication with Logistics to find out about Auralia. “Logistics, stand by. I have an incoming urgent communication.”
“Standing by.”
He tapped the line open. “Creed here.”
“Doli.”
“You two down the road?” he asked hopefully. “There’s a pile-up north of the dell.”
“Yeah, it started on the bridge. A semi-truck plowed into the mayor’s SUV. We were two cars back. I couldn’t see in his tinted windows to assess. There are laws against that for a reason.”
“But you’re okay? Why isn’t Auralia calling?” His heart stopped mid-beat, his breath clawed its way back into his lungs, unwilling to release. Gripped and suspended, Creed couldn’t feel his body. He was momentarily unable to process the other side of the question, if it meant anything other than Auralia was alive and unharmed.
“Okay,” she started, “you can’t freak out on me.”
Creed’s soul left his body. He felt it fling itself free and then a moment later popped itself back like a rubber band, likehis boyhood slingshot. And there he stood, as he morphed into a beast that wanted to race forward, ripping and tearing away anything that would keep him from Auralia’s side.
“She’sunhurt,” Doli pronounced clearly.
The words sifted into his brain.
He repeated the word through a dry mouth, “Unhurt. You should lead with that one next time.”
“Here’s the situation, though,” Doli said. “I’m going to put you on video so you can sort of see what I’m saying to you. The rain, though …”
His phone buzzed, asking for permission to take the encrypted video call, and he punched the button.
“Behind Mayor Early and Representative Braxton was Mrs. Morrison driving the family SUV. Her daughter was sitting beside her, and Shithead Morrison was crouching in the back so no one would see him leaving. I guess he thought that speaker bullet was aimed at him.”
“I’m not getting much but geometric shapes and rain.” Doli was talking to him and didn’t lead with ‘get here now,’ so he planted his feet firmly on the belief that if Auralia was ever in need of him, he’d know it in his gut, and he’d race to her side.
