Bang! Screeeeech—!
Attal's Buick slammed hard into Owen's car, the metal scraping and shrieking in a sound that grated the teeth.
Owen kept control of the wheel, and in the moment of separation, drew his Glock and fired—bang, bang—blowing out the killer's front tires with precise shots.
Smoke burst from the Buick's wheels as the car wobbled violently at high speed.
Owen stomped the brakes to avoid collision, but the Buick swerved suddenly, its front end smashing into his car's front. The two vehicles twisted together and skidded toward the tunnel wall before flipping over with a crash.
And then—
The firestorm from the earlier explosion arrived.
Cars still driving ahead braked in panic, but it was too late. The inferno swallowed them, flinging some vehicles into the air.
The blast surged through the tunnel like a monster with a gaping, flaming maw, devouring everything in its path. The immense energy had nowhere to go but forward.
Cars that didn't even know what had happened were instantly engulfed. The tunnel walls cracked, communication with the outside world was cut off, and the Manhattan side of the tunnel erupted in fire. People in nearby cars were roasted alive; farther back, every window shattered.
…
Owen slowly regained consciousness, the crackling of flames surrounding him. His mind was hazy.
The last thing he remembered was the crash and the blast of light and noise that followed. A shockwave had passed through his body.
Kicking the car door open, Owen stumbled out and collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily. It took him a few moments to gather his strength.
As soon as he could think clearly, one word echoed in his mind: terrorist attack.
He looked around and spotted a massive chunk of concrete that had crushed the cab of a nearby vehicle—the driver's compartment had completely disappeared.
Owen's and Attal's cars had both flipped and landed on their roofs. Ironically, it was this that saved them. The heavy undercarriage absorbed much of the blast.
Cough, cough—
A coughing sound came from the car. A hand reached out—Beth was still alive, trying to free herself.
Owen saw his Glock on the ground, likely thrown out during the crash. He grabbed it and staggered over to the other vehicle.
The windows were blackened. He approached slowly, both hands gripping his gun. No movement inside.
Suddenly, the muzzle of a gun appeared from the window—but it wasn't pointed at him. Inside, the driver was slumped motionless over the wheel.
Owen pulled the man back. A short-haired white male—unfamiliar. He checked his pulse. Faint.
If an ambulance arrived soon, the man might live. But here and now? Unlikely.
Deeming the man no threat, Owen turned and offered Beth a hand. She took it, and he pulled her free from the twisted wreck.
"What's that smell?" Beth asked, panting.
Indeed, besides the acrid stench of burning, there was… something else. Something like roasted meat.
Owen knew exactly what it was—but didn't say. Unfortunately, Beth saw for herself.
Not far off, inside a car, the glass had melted. The driver inside was charred black, steam still rising from the corpse.
Urgh—!
Beth, who had just started recovering, vomited.
Owen didn't stop to comfort her. He pulled out his phone—no signal. The explosion had clearly taken out all nearby infrastructure.
"Fuck," he muttered, slipping the useless device back into his pocket.
"I'll check for survivors."
He sat Beth down in a corner and began checking nearby vehicles. Unfortunately, not a single survivor.
Cars with open windows had roasted occupants. In others, he felt no pulse at all.
He couldn't help but reflect on their luck—if they hadn't flipped during the crash, they'd be just like these people.
The tunnel was eerily silent now. Without engines or horns, only the snap and pop of burning echoed around them.
In such stillness, any sound stood out.
Owen froze. He heard something. From up ahead.
He ran toward the noise and found a car wedged between others. It had been protected by the pile-up.
Bang! Bang!
Someone inside was trying to break a window. A slab of concrete above was teetering, about to fall.
Owen sprinted over. "Back away!" he yelled.
He grabbed a rock and smashed the driver's window, then yanked the man out just in time.
The instant they got clear, the concrete slab crashed down, smashing the car into scrap metal.
"Th-thanks… cough..."
The man choked out the words, covered in dust and ash. Owen turned and recognized him.
It was Chen Mike—the Chinese martial artist who had once claimed CTU's $250,000 bounty and had worked with CTU and West Hollywood PD as a combat trainer.
"Chen? What are you doing in New York?"
"O-Owen?"
Mike was just as surprised to see someone he vaguely knew from Los Angeles.
Owen was glad to have saved someone he recognized. Still, it was curious that Chen Mike was all the way out here.
"I, uh… Chief Haviland of the West Hollywood PD introduced me to a NYPD detective named John McClane. He helped me set up a training contract with NYPD—I came here to sign it."
So that was it.
Apparently, Chen's reputation had reached the East Coast. He was expanding his business nationwide.
And now, Owen had just heard John McClane's name again—his old war buddy from Nakatomi Tower. They hadn't spoken in a long time.
"Owen, are you okay?"
Beth had followed the noise and rushed over.
Owen introduced the two, and the trio began moving forward again—only to be interrupted by a voice.
"Help! Help! Somebody—please!"
They followed the sound to a tipped-over prison transport vehicle.
The gate was open, the driver gone. A dead police officer with a broken neck lay inside.
"Please help us, please! We didn't do anything—we swear!"
Seven or eight inmates were shouting, hands pressed to the cage door. Their shackles were gone.
"No, we swear—we didn't do anything! When the van flipped, the keys landed inside. We just picked them up. Please believe us!"
One of the prisoners seemed to sense Owen's hesitation and explained quickly.
Owen looked at the group, then at the dead officer. After a moment, he sighed and unlocked the gate.
The inmates whooped and ran out of the van, not one bothering to say thank you.
------------------
Enjoying the story? Support the author and get early access to chapters by joining my Patre@n!
Find me at: patre@n*com/Mutter
You can read each novel for $5 or get them all for just $15.
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256) — $5
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336) — $5
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542) — $5
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924) — $5
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284) — $5
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289) — $5
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316) — $5
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402) — $5
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570) — $5
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660) — $5
Get access to all of them for just $15 on Patre@n!
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]