Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(96)

The blue tiger charged down the highway, massive legs pumping, its tail curling up and straightening with each leap. The fringe of tentacles spread upright from its neck like a glowing corona with a turquoise star on each end of the ray. If I lived a hundred years, I’d never forget this.

Zeus leaped, forward and to the left, and landed on top of a car in the middle lane. His paws slid. He teetered, jumped forward, and crouched in the back of a black Ford 150 truck. Bern screeched to a halt.

Zeus’ fur stood on end. His muzzle wrinkled. His lips rose in a ferocious snarl, revealing curved dagger fangs. The fringe pulsed with crimson. Magic thumped. A pulse of crimson ripped into the cab, biting at it. The Ford tore out of the lane, ramming into a blue Honda Civic. The impact pushed the Civic out of its lane, blocking us. The massive Ford screeched free and swung onto the shoulder and roared off with Zeus snarling.

Crap.

Bern laid on the horn. The woman in the Civic waved her arms, spinning around. Stuck.

“Bug, it’s not a white Chevy, it’s a black Ford!” I stuck my head out of the window and screamed. “Get out of the way!”

The woman flipped me off.

“Get out of the way!”

People behind the Civic honked. The woman picked up her cell phone. Damn it. She would sit right here until the cops arrived.

Bern laid on the horn.

Something thudded against our car. The Ford Explorer rocked and groaned, accepting a massive weight. I spun around and saw something dark in the rear window. The top of the cab bent inward. I pulled my gun out.

An enormous shaggy paw lowered onto the hood, then another, and then a giant bear belly blocked out the sun. Sergeant Teddy slid off our roof and landed in front of the car. He lumbered over to the Civic.

The woman dropped her phone.

The huge grizzly leaned against the Civic and pushed. The small car slid back into its lane. Sergeant Teddy took a running start and landed on our hood. The Ford creaked. The grizzly slid over us and landed on the pavement, his huge head taking up the entire rear window. Claws scraped against metal. The hatchback rose and Sergeant Teddy climbed into the back. Even with the third row of seats stowed away, he barely fit. Suddenly the car was full of bear.

Bern turned slowly and looked at me, his eyes as big as saucers.

“They’re getting away!” I yelled at him. “Drive!”

He shook himself and stepped on the gas. The Ford jerked forward. We sped down the shoulder.

Ahead, crimson magic flashed again.

“Bug?” I resisted the urge to shake the phone. “Bug?”

“. . . Yes?”

“Black Ford F-150, driving on the shoulder of I-10 just west of Fry Road exit. Get eyes on it.”

There was a pause. “Drone launching now. It will take a few minutes from the helicopter.”

The highway climbed as the road picked up altitude for an overpass. If we went over the side now, it was all over.

Ahead the black truck veered wildly, scraped the side of the concrete barrier, bounced off, skimmed the line of cars, and slammed on the brakes. Zeus flattened himself in the cab. He was trying to shake off the tiger.

“There are children in that truck,” Bern growled.

“I don’t think he cares.”

Gun shots popped like firecrackers. The deep roar of a pissed-off carnivore answered.

Bern sped up to forty-five miles per hour. Our Explorer grazed the concrete on the right with a sickening screech. He straightened it out.

The distance between us shrank.

“Almost got him,” Bern said, his face savage.

The sign for the exit for Westgreen Road came up ahead.

“Take the exit,” I prayed.

The truck laid on the horn. The line of cars parted and he tore through the gap.

“Damn it.”

Bern laid on the horn. Sergeant Teddy roared. The cars slammed on their brakes and we shot through the same gap. I stuck my finger into my left ear and shook it to clear the ringing out.

The Ford was only a few dozen yards ahead now, but picking up speed. It grazed the cars on the left and bounced into the concrete barrier. My heart skipped a beat.

The barrier held.

The truck looked old, the back of the bed chipped. Likely stolen. Stolen truck probably meant it didn’t have the fancy run-flat tires.

“Keep it steady.” I leaned out of the window.

“Kids,” Bern reminded me.

“I remember.”

Either I shot the tires now, or they would wreck and go off the highway. I aimed at the right rear tire and squeezed the trigger.

The shot popped off.

“Did it hit?” Bern asked.

“It did.”

At that distance and at the relatively low speed, .40 caliber ammo would punch through the tire and likely exit on the other side. The tire would gradually deflate.

Seconds ticked by.

The tire went flat. The black truck slowed slightly.

“I have eyes on the black truck,” Bug said. “The children are in it. I repeat, the children are in it.”

Another burst of red magic flared in the truck bed. Zeus wasn’t done yet.

Mason Road exit. He didn’t take that one either.

“The chopper is coming,” Bug said.

“ETA?” I asked.

“At least four minutes.”

A hell of a lot could happen in the next four minutes. It would only take a second for the black truck to hit something and roll over that concrete barrier to the ground far below. The image of a crushed, overturned truck flashed before me. We couldn’t let it happen.