Page 89 of Rescued Dreams

Everything went black.

THIRTY

Ridge’s awareness came back slowly. The tang in the air smelled like smoke and something chemical and hit his throat, making him cough. His body jerked with the motion, and pain exploded in his chest. He let out a moan but only heard the roar of his own breath in his ears.

He blinked. Smoke hung in the air, but he didn’t have his helmet on or his air tank. What was…

The truck lay on its side on the street.

Light from the afternoon sun beamed through the front windshield, illuminating the particles in the air and the smoke all around them.Fire.

They’d been driving along, shooting the breeze. Blowing off steam. Relieved the bank situation had been resolved without anyone getting killed. He’d been praying quietly for the manager, that his heart attack hadn’t been fatal.

Then…boom.

Ridge shifted, his shoulders at an odd angle. Even inhaling made fire flash through his chest. He gritted his teeth against the pain and tried to get his bearings.

Izan’s legs were under him, his buddy knocked out cold by the look of it. Between Ridge and the seat. On his other side, toward the front, the floater, Warren Kaminsky, lay at an odd angle, blood running down from an open wound on the side of his face.

Ridge jerked into motion, causing more pain to roll through his chest. He looked around for something to press against Warren’s head. The medical duffel…It was farther back down the truck, stored in a cabinet on the exterior. Now between the engine and the ground they were lying on.

What on earth had flipped the truck onto its side?

He heard yelling voices but couldn’t make them out.Focus.He couldn’t put pressure on an open wound that big. It looked like a section of Warren’s skull had been crushed. Ridge sniffed back tears that wanted to fall down his cheeks.

Izan was still out. Over the front seat, he spotted Della’s dark hair, but not Amelia.

“Hey!”

He twisted around and saw an older man in the open rear door, lying so he could see into the truck cab. Ridge said, “We need help.”

“We called it in. One of your people was here earlier, but I don’t know where they went.” The man’s face reddened. “Give me your hand. I’ll get you out of there.”

Ridge shook his head. “I’ll pass you one of these guys. Can you lift them?”

“No, but someone else up here might. One sec.” He slid out of sight.

Ridge realized the guy must’ve climbed up there. He didn’t even know what street they were on or who’d caused the back of the truck to blow. It had sounded like an explosion, and in the moment, they’d all gone airborne, as if seatbelts were a figment of the imagination.

He checked Warren’s pulse, then looked at the door above. “We need a basket.”

“Ridge!” Bryce’s head appeared in the open door. Eddie held the door pushed back, up in the air. It was an odd sensation to have them looking down on him. To be the victim.

He tried to process what to ask for first.

Bryce looked at his rescue squad guys and said, “Get the basket.”

Ridge could’ve cried right then. He touched a hand to his chest and breathed through the pain.

“Did you crack ribs?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.” Ridge looked up. “What happened?”

“Once we get you all in ambulances, we can figure out the answer to that question.” Bryce lowered his legs into the open doorway, set his boots on the back of the seat between rows, and lowered himself to sit there. He looked in front.

“Are they…” Ridge was scared to ask. He pushed off the door to sit up, trying to create enough room they could get Warren out as fast as possible.

“Della is out cold.” Bryce looked around. “Where’s Amelia?”