––––––––
Hart managed to drop the car into gear before he slumped forward into the wheel. His eyes remained open, though they stared sightlessly into the dash.
The car rolled forward at a snail’s pace, veering slightly to the right.
“Joe!” Penn managed to lift his head from the rest.
Lethargic hands stretched out to his partner, touched his shoulders.
Christie reached for the door handle and found there wasn’t one in the back of the squad car. Panicked, she threw her shoulder against the door.
It didn’t budge.
“Let me out!” she pleaded.
Penn started, as if he’d forgotten she was even in the car with him. His head moved slowly around until he looked at her. “They’re dead.”
“I’m sorry.” Christie leaned toward the metal mesh that separated the front and back seats. “But you have to get me out of here. I can’t open the door.”
The gunfire that had peppered the car had ceased.
Steam rose from under the hood, which had dozens of bullet holes punched in it.
Cracks stretched across the windshield.
Penn blinked slowly. Turning around in his seat, he opened his door. He tumbled out and disappeared below Christie’s line of sight. She slid across the seat to his side of the car and sat up as high as she could. Part of Penn’s body was visible as he tried to roll over on the pavement. He got to his hands and knees.
Blood covered his torso and left arm, turning his shirt into a sticky mess.
The car continued to roll along.
Christie’s door moved even with Penn just as he managed to get to his knees. He reached out and grabbed the handle.
Gunfire came from the apartment building again.
Thunks resonated from the hood of the trunk behind Christie. Her window shattered. Bullets tore through the seat inches from her left arm. She threw herself flat against the door, pleaded with Penn.
“Get me out of here!”
Penn’s eyes narrowed as he fumbled with the handle using his good hand. He focused as it moved past him, his arm stretching to its full length as he held onto the handle.
And then the door popped open and Christie spilled out. She landed on her shoulder, tiny pebbles jabbing into her skin. She didn’t notice the pain, just rolled to her stomach and pushed herself up.
The car rolled past Penn, leaving him exposed.
Christie reached for him.
“Run,” he whispered.
Two bullets punched into his chest, and he crumpled to his back.
His dead gaze stared at the sky.
Christie stared at him in horror. She couldn’t believe that everything she’d experienced today could possibly be real.
Another bullet slammed into the rear bumper of the squad car beside Christie. The sound of it punching through the metal startled her. She scooted backward on her hands and knees, staying behind the car. Keeping the vehicle placed between her and the apartment building, she didn’t dare peek over the top.
The gunfire stopped after a few more seconds, and silence fell over the parking lot. Even the people protesting in the next street had grown momentarily quiet.
The squad car rocked as it bumped into a parked Silverado. It stopped then, the front bumper wedged against the rear panel of the truck. The engine wheezed and billowed steam. One of the tires was punctured and flat.
Christie leaned against the rear wheel and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Someone, please help me!”