Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
As if to answer Skull’s question, Hangman’s phone buzzes with a text message notification. Hangman takes a minute to read it. “US-74. Let’s go. It shows the phone isn’t moving. Maybe they’ve parked up.”
“Maybe,” I hear Dad respond, but he sounds doubtful.
I’m beginning to think I’m not the only one getting a bad feeling about all this shit. We drive on, but we don’t get far before we slow down because there’s flashing lights up ahead. We come to a stop and Dad, Bull, and Skull sprint ahead. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion. My legs feel like solid steel, and it’s hard to even lift them.
“What’s going on?” Skull growls at one of the police officers who have the road blocked.
“There was a …” The cop stops for a minute before he looks at his buddy. I study them as they have some kind of silent conversation before the cop finishes what he started to say. “There’s a motorcycle accident. The road will be blocked for a while. You should try an alternative route.” He finishes most of that sentence staring in shock as Skull pushes past him once he hears the word accident. “Hey! You can’t go up there.” Cops try to swarm Skull, but he pushes them aside. When Bull does the same thing, they just stand back. Not one of them is brave enough to stop him.
“Their sons were driving in this area, and we haven’t been able to get in touch with them,” Dad explains. “How bad is it?”
“It’s pretty bad—”
“Fuck,” Dad yells. Hell, maybe all of us do.
We take off after Skull and Bull, ignoring the cops who are trying to contain us. I scan the area. T and King are beside me and what I see makes my stomach churn. Breaker’s bike is lying on its side, mangled from impact with a guardrail. There’s no sign of Break anywhere though. Across the road, Diego’s ride is lying on the side of the road. At first glance, it’s not really harmed, but that’s not what makes my heart stop beating before it shakily takes off again. Diego is spread out on the ground on one of those boards they use if they suspect a spinal injury. They’re doing chest compression and have one of those BVM bags—a manual resuscitator—over his mouth and my heart sinks. They’re giving him CPR and that’s never good. Skull is screaming in the background, but my gaze turns to Bull.
“Where is my son? That’s his bike over there.”
“Sir—”
“What hospital did you take him to?”
“Sir—”
“Tell me where my son is! I want to see him—”
“Bull, let them speak,” Dad interjects, his hand locked down on Bull’s shoulder. I know he’s trying to contain him, so he doesn’t tear the paramedics apart. If they don’t tell him what he wants to know soon, though, he will unleash on them and nothing Dad can do will hold him back.
“We haven’t found your son yet, sir.”
“What do you mean you haven’t found him?” I ask, walking over to them, unable to stop myself from interjecting.
“He wasn’t here when we arrived. There’s a rescue team looking over the embankment, but we think the force of the crash threw him over the guardrail.”
“If that happened, you should have seen his body over there. Are you giving him medical treatment?”
The whole time we’re talking, Skull is in the background yelling questions and screaming as he pleads with Diego to breathe. I’m trying to blot it out. I have to concentrate on Breaker. Once we find him, we can help Skull. Right now, we have to find my brother.
“We can’t find a trace of him. We think his body may have rolled until it hit the lake.”
“The lake?” Bull asks, as my heart slams against my chest.
“Fontana Lake. They’re just beginning the investigation. Nothing is certain right now. The best thing you can do is for all of you to go back behind the containment area and wait for them to talk to you. That’s it. No one should be here but the authorities who are trained for this kind of thing to do their jobs,” the man says, and he doesn’t know how close to death he is. Bull’s face tints with as reddish color, betraying his anger and frustration. He looks like he might explode if he doesn’t get his hands on this guy.
“You need to go,” Dragon growls at the guy.
“Sir—”
Bull lunges for the guy and it’s all Dad can do to contain him. I notice King is there to help. T is standing by me, and I can feel the worry coming off him in waves. I’m probably broadcasting the same emotion. If the wreck did fling Breaker over the hill and he rolled into the creek, there’s no way he was conscious. He could have drowned, not having a chance to save himself. There’s so much shit running through my head that I’m having trouble breathing. I just keep seeing my woman’s face and wondering how I can explain any of this to her …