I just need to get out of my head and pretend I’m watching one of those police procedurals I love so much. I need to disassociate from the fact that this is very much real.
My worst nightmare has suddenly become my reality.
With one last huff of breath, I open my eyes, just in time to feel the car spin on its axis.
Noah falls back into the car with a heavy thud. He reaches for me, but the velocity of the car spinning has him smacking his head on the window opposite me.
His eyes glaze over as he stares blindly at me, his hands desperately stretching to grab hold of some part of me before they flutter close with a groan. I gasp in utter terror when his body goes limp, and I notice the pool of blood on his shoulder.
“GABE! Gabe! Noah got shot!”
I have to shut my eyes as I’m hit with a rush of vertigo so intense, I nearly lose that sandwich.
The car stops spinning but continues to careen sideways. I scream for Gabe to help me but when he refuses to answer, I arch my back and forcefully squeeze my way out of my spot on the car floor.
I’m grasping Noah’s arm when my eyes stray to the front.
Gabe is sprawled out on the dashboard with his cheek pressed to the steering wheel.
The window is cracked on the driver side and there’s blood gushing out of his forehead from where he hit his head.
One of them might be dead, and I barely begin to process that thought when the car screeches to a stop, causing me to fly back on to my side of the backseat.
The gun I had been clutching falls from my hands and slides underneath the seat next to Noah.
With a strangled cry, I crawl back towards Noah, determined to wake him up so we can get out of here, when I see movement in my peripheral.
I scream Noah’s name over and over again, patting his knee and hoping he will wake up before they manage to get in.
Grabbing the grenade he tossed me, I shove it into my bra.
I kick Noah’s leg and he stirs but doesn’t wake up.
I’m about to grab his arm again when my door is pried open and I’m hauled out of the car.
I’m kicking and screaming, desperately trying to fight my way back to my husband.
I shove my elbow into the assailant’s gut, slamming my heel on his foot.
In return, he knocks me down to my knees as he folds over in pain.
I scramble back up and run towards the car.
Someone yells at me, but my eyes never stray from Noah’s lifeless body.
An arm comes around my neck and I’m being choked from behind when yet another voice calls out for me not to be harmed. As soon as the arm relaxes around my neck, I bite down hard.
I’m plopped back down on the ground as I hear the yelps of pain from my attacker.
I grab the grenade I stuffed in my bra, unclipping the pin and tossing it behind me as I push myself to run towards the car.
A loud booming sound fills the air, and the force of the grenade’s blast causes me to hurl forward, nearly hitting my head on the freeway.
I attempt to crawl my way back to Noah.
It seems like they might not hurt me, but they will hurt him.
I need to get to him.