Page 24 of Wild Sentinel

“Is everybody okay?" I asked, my heart pounding.

I patted myself down, feeling for injuries. With adrenaline through the roof, it could mask the pain. Fortunately, I didn’t feel the wet soak of blood.

"I'm good," Marcus replied.

I looked at Jack, and he gave me a nod.

It was a miracle no one had gotten hit.

I unbuckled the seatbelt and slipped out of the car, taking cover behind it.

The beige truck had sped away into the night.

"I'm starting to get the impression that people don't like us asking questions," Jack said as he crawled out of the vehicle.

We were all a little achy and would be more so in the morning.

I called Sheriff Rollins.

He picked up after a few rings.

"It’s Tyson Wild. We spoke earlier this afternoon.”

"What can I do for you, Deputy Wild?”

“Well, you’re not going to like this.” I told him about the incident and gave him a description of the vehicle.

"I'm on my way."

I ended the call and slid the phone back into my pocket.

JD and I waited by the vehicle with weapons ready. I didn't think the truck would come back for another run, but you never knew. I didn’t want to climb up to the highway just yet. If they did come back, we’d be more exposed. At least we had cover here.

Soon, red and blue lights flickered, drawing near.

It wasn’t hard to see where we’d plowed through the guardrail. Sheriff Rollins pulled to the shoulder. He hopped out of the squad car and surveyed the damage. Then he shone a flashlight down the hill at us. The beam raked across the mangled wreck. “You boys okay down there?”

“All good,” I shouted back.

We climbed up to the road with caution, my pistol still in my hand.

The sheriff knew Marcus and gave him a nod when we reached the shoulder. It was a small town.

Rollins surveyed the car, then looked at us with surprise. "I’m not sure how you survived that."

The car was a twisted hunk of metal now, riddled with bullets and a few blown tires. It had serious suspension damage.

"Somebody was looking out for us," I said, glancing above.

"I'll say." Rollins looked at Marcus like he should have been a dead man. By all rights, he should have been.

"You can probably find some shell casings down the highway," I said.

"That's like looking for a needle in a haystack," he replied. "Don't know how much good it would do.”

"Might be able to catch a print from one of the casings.”

Rollins shook his head. "This was a professional attempt. There aren’t any prints on those shell casings. Too smart for that. You get a license plate?"