School of Fish (Fish Out of Water #6) - Amy Lane Page 0,119

Lance’s crapmobile, all headed down J Street, looking for a stuttering group transport.

Burton called him just as he saw a shambling converted school bus, painted badly in rainbow colors that were never meant for the side of an automobile. As Ellery roared past it in the Tank and then spun around in a bit of driving worthy of the most hardened stunt man, Jackson read the words Johnson’s Independent Church of the Christian Republic on the side.

“Oh dear God,” he muttered over the phone. “You would not believe what we’re following down the road.”

“Ace and Jai stole one of those shuttles from an eldercare home to take its place,” Burton replied flatly. “They should be about a block behind you.”

“Wow,” Jackson muttered just as Ellery said, “Seriously?”

“Oh God, he’s not going to make it much further.” Jackson could see the wobble Burton had been talking about, and it looked like the tire was off center because the axle was cracked. And from the amount of smoke and the smell, the engine was about to catch fire.

“All right,” Jackson said. “I’ve got an idea. Have him hang a right at Ninth and then left directly onto Capitol Mall. Have him follow the roundabout and then turn left on Ninth again. There’s a park about a block down. We will be right on his tail. You got that?”

“Got it. I can spot all the things from here. Traffic is just waking up, but it’s not dire yet. I think he can make it.”

“Tell him,” Jackson ordered. “I’ve got—”

Something bounced off their passenger window, and Jackson looked up in surprise in time to see the bank of windows at the top of the school bus explode into pulverized glass.

“Oh fuck. We’re passing Seventh and someone was here to meet us,” Jackson told Burton. “There’s three SUVs full of Ziggy’s guys or Kovacs’s guys or who-the-fuck’s guys and they’re… oh.”

The SUV that had passed Jackson, and then the bus full of children on the wrong side of the road suddenly went screaming onto the sidewalk, hitting a light pole before rolling down the road and stopping upside down half on the walkway and half on the sidewalk.

“Dead,” Ellery said, voice blank. “Those guys are dead.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter who they’re working for,” Jackson muttered, wondering where the fuck Burton was. “Oh shit. Here comes another one for another pass.” They were coming up behind Ellery, heading for the inside lane next to the bus.

“I don’t have a clean shot!” Burton muttered. “If they keep firing into that bus, they’re going to hit someone. I don’t care if the kids are flat on the ground!”

“Ellery!” Jackson cried out, panicked. “We’ve got to—”

“Yeah, I know,” Ellery muttered. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I will never give you shit about wrecking another car again.”

And with that, Ellery gunned the motor of the Tank and made an abrupt right, standing on the brakes so the black SUV with the gunmen popping out of the driver’s side, getting ready to spray the school bus, would T-bone them right in the center.

Jackson got a good look at the whites of the driver’s shocked eyes right before they hit.

It Takes a Fish Bowl to Save a School of Fish

THE TANK came specially modified, including protective webbing and a triple-lock suicide seat belt. When Ellery and Jackson braced for impact, they were flipping the last two closures of the webbing before the SUV hit them broadside, sending him and Jackson rebounding sideways and back and exploding all the airbags.

All of the modified airbags that took most of the impact and made it bearable, that cushioned their fragile bodies just enough that Ellery’s head didn’t smash through the window and Jackson wasn’t thrown across the center console.

Turns out, there was a bag there too.

They sat for a moment, stunned, and then Jackson started issuing orders.

“Out of the car,” he muttered. “They’ve got airbags too, and—”

There was a series of short explosive sounds coming from Jackson’s side of the car, and the glass—bulletproof, yes, but not completely disaster proof—began to show fractures radiating out from the shots aimed at them by whoever was conscious in the SUV.

“Forget getting out,” Jackson barked. “Does this thing still run?”

“Hasn’t stopped yet,” Ellery mumbled, still dazed. “Isn’t the engine supposed to kill in a crash?”

“Thank Ace later,” Jackson cried. “Get out of this place now!”

“Fuck!” Ellery’s left wrist and forearm ached ferociously, enough to disable movement completely. He shifted the Tank to Reverse and lifted his right hand to