Chapter 9: Four Consecutive Explosions
To the north of Skasdai Town lay a small patch of woods. Evening had already settled in, and the streetlights along the road through the forest began to glow.
“Sir, this is Mona.”
A pitch-black SUV sped through the winding road. Mona, suppressing her anxiety, held Roan’s phone as she reported the situation to Augustus on the other end of the call:
“The murderer, Conrad, has stolen a Cadillac belonging to a senator’s wife and is now fleeing down the highway. We request the SWAT team to intercept him.”
“SWAT will arrive in ten minutes,” Augustus replied calmly from inside an armored vehicle. “But I’ve already notified the NYPD. They’ve dispatched patrol officers closest to the target location to block him. Be very careful.”
“Understood, sir.”
Mona hung up, slipped Roan’s Nokia into her pocket, and continued tapping furiously at her laptop, her expression tense.
“What should we do next? I just checked on Mrs. Yurland’s husband, Senator Yale. He’s a staunch Republican from New York, and a strong supporter of gun rights. He’s publicly stated multiple times that he always carries a gun, and his car is no exception.”
“…Truly American.”
Roan was helpless, but with the end so close, he refused to back down. He turned to Mona and instructed her:
“Put on your bulletproof vest. Be extra cautious when we encounter the enemy.”
“OK.”
Mona nodded. When it came to her own safety, she knew what mattered most.
The SUV raced along the road. After several sharp turns, Roan saw the red dot on his computer drawing ever closer. Suddenly, fierce gunfire erupted outside.
Bang bang bang—
Roan floored the accelerator. The SUV climbed the hill ahead, and immediately they saw a police cruiser from the NYPD, its front smashed and pushed to the roadside.
On the ground, two patrol officers were urgently tending to a third officer who lay wounded.
Roan slammed on the brakes. Mona quickly rolled down the window and called out:
“What happened?”
“A Cadillac rammed through our temporary checkpoint,” one officer said, still shaken. “The suspect fired a rifle at us as he broke through.”
“Did you see what he looked like?”
“A middle-aged white man!”
“OK, thanks for the information!”
Mona tossed the emergency medical kit from beneath the passenger seat to the two officers. Roan stomped on the accelerator and sped away.
“Thanks to Senator Yale’s generosity, Conrad now has a rifle,” Mona said, patting her bulletproof vest. Roan’s brows furrowed.
“Hide in the back seat,” he ordered.
“OK.”
Mona didn’t argue. She grabbed her laptop and moved from the front passenger seat to the back.
Once Mona was safely seated and strapped in, Roan’s eyes turned razor sharp.
“Time to race!”
Night had fallen. The road through the woods was ablaze with lights. In the distance, the dazzling cityscape of New York gleamed, the metropolis just beginning its nightly revelry.
The roar of a powerful engine approached, and then—like a streak of black lightning—the SUV flew down the highway. Roan sat in the driver’s seat, his face set in cold determination, hands gripping the wheel as he executed daring maneuvers, overtaking cars with a recklessness ten times greater than before.
Through the rearview mirror, Conrad watched the black SUV drawing closer and closer. His left hand throbbed with pain, his heart pounding in his chest. He’d never seen anyone drive like this through the winding forest roads.
Glancing at the rifle beside him in the passenger seat, Conrad felt a chill run through him. He yanked the steering wheel and slammed the brakes. The Cadillac skidded, leaving deep tire marks on the road.
With the passenger side now facing the SUV, Conrad’s face twisted with rage. He grabbed the rifle and fired at the pursuing vehicle.
“Die, all of you!”
Bang bang bang bang—
“Roan! He’s shooting at us!” Mona screamed in terror as the gunfire echoed. Roan’s expression was grim as he spun the wheel, dodging bullets. The SUV moved like a snake through the forest, winding and twisting at full speed, drawing ever closer to the Cadillac.
Under Conrad’s stunned gaze, the SUV—now riddled with bullet holes in its windows—slammed into the right side of the Cadillac, its driver completely unharmed.
Boom—
“Are you insane, Roan!” Mona shouted from the back seat.
“Stay down, don’t move!”
As the collision left Conrad dazed, Roan endured his discomfort, grabbed a stun grenade from his belt, and tossed it into the Cadillac’s back seat.
A stun grenade—non-lethal, its purpose to disorient the enemy with blinding light and deafening sound.
Bang!
The enormous noise exploded inside the Cadillac, shattering the windows of both vehicles and scattering glass everywhere.
Roan crouched behind the SUV, Glock 18 in hand, pulling Mona from the car and shielding her. He looked up and saw the driver’s seat of the Cadillac empty—the suspect had jumped out before the grenade hit dead center. Without hesitation, Roan grabbed another stun grenade and threw it.
Bang!
The grenade exploded on the other side of the Cadillac. Roan, still uneasy, decided to toss the remaining four stun grenades from his pocket.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
A cascade of explosions erupted. Roan finally felt reassured. He rose, Glock in hand, and rushed toward the Cadillac’s side, finding Conrad knocked to the ground, utterly incapacitated by the blast.
Carefully, Roan kicked the rifle out of reach, then pulled out handcuffs and secured Conrad’s wrists and ankles. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.
He began searching the body… No, checking for hidden weapons.
Covered in dirt, Mona approached cautiously, gun drawn. Seeing the enemy cuffed and Roan unharmed, she finally relaxed. Yet, remembering the collision, she couldn’t contain her anger. She holstered her gun and smacked Roan’s arm hard.
“You’re a lunatic, Roan!”
“I told you before—trust my driving skills.”
Roan waved her off, slipping a yellow notebook he’d found into his pocket. In his past life, he’d never lost a mountain road race, even driving a certain minivan. If not for his mission at the time, he would’ve joined international competitions.
“This isn’t about driving. It’s about staying alive!”
Just as Mona was preparing to lecture Roan, he sniffed the air and suddenly covered her mouth.
“???”
Roan’s face was grave. He drew his Glock and pointed at the Cadillac’s trunk. Mona instantly understood, pulling her own gun and aiming at the trunk.
They stood on either side, Roan signaling a countdown. Mona nodded, ready.
Bang—
At the end of the countdown, Roan threw open the trunk, and Mona raised her gun, ready.
Before them lay a barely breathing girl.