(eng) Jonathan Moeller - Cloak Games 05 by Shatter Stone

Author:Shatter Stone [Stone, Shatter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7: Riding The Rails

I don’t remember the next few seconds clearly.

The rocket blew up on the left-hand side of the truck’s bed, which was the only thing that saved our lives. If it had hit under the truck’s cab, the shrapnel would have ripped through Riordan and me, and not even the healing of his Shadowmorph would be able to rebuild him.

The explosion flipped the truck onto its right side. We were going forty or fifty miles an hour already, and the truck slammed hard against the ground. I do remember the glass of my window exploding, remembered seeing the windshield shatter in a billion glittering diamonds before I screwed my eyes shut on reflex. The truck slid into another lane, and a bigger truck (I think it was a post office truck, but I never did find out) hit us hard enough to rip the bed off Riordan's truck.

The cab bounced through traffic and slammed into the causeway’s steel guard rail.

I blacked out for a little bit.

Not for long, though. I had made sure to buckle my seat belt when we had left the coffee shop, and that had saved me from getting thrown from the wreckage. I whacked my head on the window frame, but for all that I complained about being short, it saved my life. Riordan’s truck had been built for tall men like him and had I been taller, I would have split my skull open. As it was, I clipped my temple on the window frame, hard enough that everything went black for a bit.

But not for long.

My eyes jerked open.

I was lying on my side, covered in shattered safety glass, cold air pouring through the open windshield of the truck. Through the windshield, I saw the metal railing of the causeway, and smoke rose from the smashed hood of the truck. I heard shouts and screams and the blare of horns. My head throbbed, and I felt something wet and sticky on my cheek and jaw. Blood, probably.

“Riordan?” I croaked.

His seat was empty. My eyes moved from the damaged seat, over the dented hood, and to the railing. God, had he been thrown from the cab in the crash? It was at least sixty feet to the ground from the causeway. Shadow Hunter or not, he couldn’t survive that.

I heard the crack of a gunshot, and my sluggish mind jerked into focus.

Mr. Cane was coming for me.

A while back, I had been watching a spy movie with Russell and James. In it, the Rebel terrorist captured the heroic Homeland Security secret agent, and during their final battle atop a half-built skyscraper, the Rebel terrorist had stopped to make a sneering speech at the heroic agent.

“Why doesn’t he just shoot him?” Russell had demanded.

Mr. Cane had taken Russell’s advice.

I had thought he would track me down and bite off my head. I hadn’t expected him to simply walk up and shoot me.

He was coming for me. Riordan was hurt, and maybe even dead. I had to move.

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