Flashback by Justine Davis (reading e books .TXT) 📗

her own thoughts. Rankin, reaching for his cell phone the moment they’d left him. She’d thought he’d been calling whoever was behind this, to warn him they’d been there. Maybe he had, and that person had called someone else.

And maybe the hunter hadn’t followed them because he didn’t need to. Maybe he’d simply waited for a call telling him where they were.

Her pulse was hammering now, and Alex gestured at the still chattering group to move faster, up onto the relative safety of the sidewalk.

A split second later the chatter was lost in the horrific sound as the bus exploded.

Chapter 19

Alex whipped around.

The bus was in flames.

Justin.

He was underneath.

Alex’s heart slammed into her throat and she couldn’t breathe. Her knees wobbled, and she felt a chilling wave of shock sweep over her.

You can’t afford that! she ordered herself. Move. Now. Fast.

Years of training, both at the FBI and Athena kicked in, and she began to move. Fast. Fortunately, the passengers had already gotten off the bus, but they’d all still been gathered close by. Too close. There were injuries at the very least, she was sure, probably some bad ones.

The driver was still off to one side, appearing to be unhurt, but looking dazed. That wasn’t surprising, she thought; it appeared the cab portion of the vehicle had sustained the most damage.

“Call 911,” she snapped at him. “Somebody who’s not hurt check for injuries,” she added, aiming at anybody still on their feet.

Her instinct was to find Justin, but she knew her job was to help the innocent victims. She and Justin were trained for this sort of thing, these people—especially the children—were not.

By now people were coming out of the buildings of the club, and the office building across the street. She saw some that were carrying cell phones, so she didn’t worry about the dazed driver making any sense, if he’d even managed to call. Someone would get the message through to emergency services. The dispatchers were good, they would put the pieces together if they had to.

One of the adults who had been aboard the bus, a woman in what had once been a spotless designer suit, was already moving among the others, apparently following the order to check for injuries. She was doing it efficiently enough that Alex crossed that off her list for the moment.

The bus was burning fast now. Alex could hear at least one person screaming from inside. She ripped at the tail of her own shirt and tied a makeshift bandanna over her mouth and nose, grabbed up a bottle of water that had ended up on the ground, opened it swiftly and poured it all over herself as best she could.

Then she barreled up the rear steps of the bus, away from the wrecked cab, through the smoke and licking flames and toward the screaming.

She found the man in the back, lying on the bent floor of the bus with one leg pinned under a seat at an angle that told her it was probably broken. He was apparently the only one who hadn’t been able to get off.

He clawed at her, still screaming. She tried to reassure him, but the smoke and heat was getting worse, and she had little time. She tried the rear emergency exit, but it was partially crumpled and didn’t want to move. She backed up and kicked it as hard as she could. On the third try it budged slightly.

She braced herself on the backs of the two last seats for leverage. Swung both legs up and punched with both feet at once. The exit hatch seemed to shriek, then it gave. She was fuzzy-headed enough from the smoke now that it took her a moment to realize it was also being pulled from outside. People were helping now, bless them.

She turned back to the man on the floor, who had quieted now. Or passed out, she wasn’t sure. She pushed at the crumpled seat, but it didn’t move. She shifted position and put her shoulder into it, bracing her feet against the next seat, which was bent but seemed solid enough. She went nearly dizzy with the effort and the lack of air, but at last it gave, and she was able to pry the man free.

She bent and grabbed him under the arms. She knew it would have hurt horribly if he’d been conscious, so she was grateful that he wasn’t.

It took a huge effort, and required more air than she could get amid the smoke, but she got him to the exit. Hands reached up to help, and once she felt them take him she let the man slip from her grasp.

Coughing and dizzy, her eyes streaming tears and knowing she had little time left herself, Alex made her way back to the front of the bus, checking each seat by feel since she could no longer see. In a seat toward the front, to her shock, she found a small, unmoving body.

A child.

A vivid image flashed through her mind, of a small, frightened face peering at her through one of the vehicle’s windows. The little girl had been about here, toward the front of the bus.

Her heart in her throat now, Alex bent over the seat. She touched the small shape again. Alive? She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t see anything now through the smoke. She gathered the limp child up in her arms and headed for the door as fast as she could manage.

She slipped going down the steps, but someone steadied her, helped her balance, then lifted the frighteningly still burden from her arms. And then, at last, she could breathe again. But the moment she was clear she turned back to the bus. Dropped to the ground to peer underneath. Could see nothing amid the smoke that was now billowing down as well as up.

She blinked. Tried to focus, but her eyes were blurry from smoke.

“J—” Her throat was so raw she could