FBI laminate.
“I need everyone to back up to the far side of the street,” he stated firmly. “For your own safety. Move!”
A few nodded, others grumbled, but they all backed up.
From the edge of the parking lot, Dean looked down into the sinkhole. More like a friggin’ abyss , he thought. A few cars parked on either side of the lot were within a few brittle blacktop inches of falling into the hole, but what concerned him more were the two people standing at the entrance to the convenience store. An attractive blond woman no more than thirty, with a panic-stricken look on her face, straining to pull away from the wiry teenaged boy wearing a nametag and green polyester shirt that probably served as a store uniform. The teenager had a firm grip on her upper arm to keep her from running headlong into the pit.
Dean called across the chasm.
“Ma’am, you need to stay where you are.”
“My son’s asleep in the van!” she yelled back.
Glancing to the right, Dean saw a blue Chevy conversion van. Aside from the windshield, which faced away from him, all the windows were tinted. If the kid had any sense, he would have lit out soon as the first car crashed in the hole.
“How old?”
“Three!”
Damn , Dean thought. “Sam! We got a problem. Kid trapped in a van.”
Dean pointed at the Mack’s employee. “Young man, what’s your name?”
“Anson.”
“There a back exit out of the store?”
“Yes,” Anson said. “But there’s a wall behind the store.”
“Can you get over it?”
“No. Wait, yes, we have a ladder for changing lights.”
“Great,” Dean said. “I want you to take this woman and go out the back.”
“I’m not leaving my son!” the woman cried.
“I’ll get your son,” Dean responded.
“I’m not leaving until I know he’s safe.”
Dean sighed. He looked at the strip of sidewalk they stood on. At the moment, it seemed secure. The blacktop had crumbled away almost to the bollards. Maybe they provided some extra support.
“First sign that sidewalk’s failing, you leave. Okay?”
After a moment, she nodded reluctantly.
Beside him, Sam said, “What do you have in mind?”
Dean noticed a four-foot high chain-link fence ran along both sides of the convenience store parking lot. Easy enough to climb over it to get to the van.
“You take the passenger side. I’ll take driver’s side.”
“Figures.”
Sam started to run along the outside of the fence. Dean was a step behind him when he noticed the conversion van shudder. The blacktop under the left rear tire was crumbling. He veered to the right, but stayed on the inside of the fence, running along a thin strip of sidewalk that abutted the chainlink fence. The ground shook beneath his feet. A quick glance at the van and he saw it drop a few inches and rock side to side.
The front bumper of a late seventies gold Pontiac Firebird was close enough to kiss the fence. Without a moment’s hesitation, Dean jumped on the hood of the car and crossed over it.
Someone across the street yelled, “Hey!”
“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean muttered. Joker’s car was ten seconds from joining the vertical demolition derby and he was worried about a ding on the hood?
Dean bounded across the hoods of two more cars and landed beside the Chevy van as Sam was leaping sideways over the fence. The passenger side doors were locked. This close, he could hear a frightened child crying inside the van. Dean circled around to the driver’s side, which was also locked.
“Here,” the young mother called. “The keys!”
She tossed them underhand to Dean.
The van lurched as more ground gave way.
Dean staggered, but snatched the keys out of the air by the dyed-pink rabbit’s foot keychain. He opened the driver’s door and was about to hit the button to unlock all the doors when he was flung forward against the steering wheel.
The woman screamed. Dean felt the van sliding violently backward. Sam’s startled face flashed by the
“I need everyone to back up to the far side of the street,” he stated firmly. “For your own safety. Move!”
A few nodded, others grumbled, but they all backed up.
From the edge of the parking lot, Dean looked down into the sinkhole. More like a friggin’ abyss , he thought. A few cars parked on either side of the lot were within a few brittle blacktop inches of falling into the hole, but what concerned him more were the two people standing at the entrance to the convenience store. An attractive blond woman no more than thirty, with a panic-stricken look on her face, straining to pull away from the wiry teenaged boy wearing a nametag and green polyester shirt that probably served as a store uniform. The teenager had a firm grip on her upper arm to keep her from running headlong into the pit.
Dean called across the chasm.
“Ma’am, you need to stay where you are.”
“My son’s asleep in the van!” she yelled back.
Glancing to the right, Dean saw a blue Chevy conversion van. Aside from the windshield, which faced away from him, all the windows were tinted. If the kid had any sense, he would have lit out soon as the first car crashed in the hole.
“How old?”
“Three!”
Damn , Dean thought. “Sam! We got a problem. Kid trapped in a van.”
Dean pointed at the Mack’s employee. “Young man, what’s your name?”
“Anson.”
“There a back exit out of the store?”
“Yes,” Anson said. “But there’s a wall behind the store.”
“Can you get over it?”
“No. Wait, yes, we have a ladder for changing lights.”
“Great,” Dean said. “I want you to take this woman and go out the back.”
“I’m not leaving my son!” the woman cried.
“I’ll get your son,” Dean responded.
“I’m not leaving until I know he’s safe.”
Dean sighed. He looked at the strip of sidewalk they stood on. At the moment, it seemed secure. The blacktop had crumbled away almost to the bollards. Maybe they provided some extra support.
“First sign that sidewalk’s failing, you leave. Okay?”
After a moment, she nodded reluctantly.
Beside him, Sam said, “What do you have in mind?”
Dean noticed a four-foot high chain-link fence ran along both sides of the convenience store parking lot. Easy enough to climb over it to get to the van.
“You take the passenger side. I’ll take driver’s side.”
“Figures.”
Sam started to run along the outside of the fence. Dean was a step behind him when he noticed the conversion van shudder. The blacktop under the left rear tire was crumbling. He veered to the right, but stayed on the inside of the fence, running along a thin strip of sidewalk that abutted the chainlink fence. The ground shook beneath his feet. A quick glance at the van and he saw it drop a few inches and rock side to side.
The front bumper of a late seventies gold Pontiac Firebird was close enough to kiss the fence. Without a moment’s hesitation, Dean jumped on the hood of the car and crossed over it.
Someone across the street yelled, “Hey!”
“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean muttered. Joker’s car was ten seconds from joining the vertical demolition derby and he was worried about a ding on the hood?
Dean bounded across the hoods of two more cars and landed beside the Chevy van as Sam was leaping sideways over the fence. The passenger side doors were locked. This close, he could hear a frightened child crying inside the van. Dean circled around to the driver’s side, which was also locked.
“Here,” the young mother called. “The keys!”
She tossed them underhand to Dean.
The van lurched as more ground gave way.
Dean staggered, but snatched the keys out of the air by the dyed-pink rabbit’s foot keychain. He opened the driver’s door and was about to hit the button to unlock all the doors when he was flung forward against the steering wheel.
The woman screamed. Dean felt the van sliding violently backward. Sam’s startled face flashed by the
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