Sophia opened her eyes. The bus was still on its side and sliding. The sound of metal scraping asphalt filled her ears. She could see Damien. He was at the front of the bus, out cold, draped precariously close to a window frame, asphalt rushing past underneath. Jay was still conscious; he scrambled to pull Damien away from the window.
The bus gathered speed as it plunged down the tunnel. Under the tunnel lights, the asphalt looked wet. Then she remembered the fire truck behind them. How did she miss that? They were using the fire truck to hose down the tunnel. And the missile wasn’t a direct hit on purpose. They didn’t want Sophia and her surviving operatives dead; they wanted them captured. She supposed they were too expensive to just eliminate.
The fire truck wasn’t carrying water at a
