We’re about to hit the on-ramp for the Highway 90 going the opposite direction when a third tank shell blows us out of the road.
I end up on the grass outside the long row of office buildings. Tony is still lying in the road, stunned. We’ve been blown out of the Jeep, which I guess is a better situation than having been blown up inside the Jeep.
Tony sits up slowly, painfully. He’s clearly stunned.
“Go!” he shouts. “Run for the office buildings. Get to the roof. They can’t get you up there, Tanya. Go! Go! I’ll be right behind you.”
“I won’t leave you!” I scream. “Now that I’ve found you again, I can’t leave you!”
Up above, helicopters circling us. On the ground, the police give chase on foot and on 4X4s.
“No time, Tanya,” Tony insists. “Just go. Head for the towers. I’ll be right on
