Trevor’s voice came on the radio. “Emergency plan Foxtrot initiated at SPD.”
“Good,” Timber panted while he worked. “Someone’s at the station. Which plan is Foxtrot?”
Move everyone into the civil defense building to the blast proof rooms.
They levered one more board out of the way and made a hole. A hand stuck through.
“Move back,” Timber called into the hole. “We’re going to make this hole bigger…”
Within a few moments, they had an opening big enough for one person to climb through. Two women and a man picked their way through.
“Anyone else up there?” Timber asked.
“Just us.”
They herded the trio down the steps and across the street to safety. The sun had come up, revealing thick black smoke belching through the entire neighborhood.
The radio squelched and Trevor’s called on it. “SRT-1 calling SRT-444.”
“Standing by.”
“Head to the vehicle yard asap for equipment detail.”
“You don’t need us at the station?”
“The station is secure.”
“Ok then,” Timber said. “To the vehicle yard.”
I bet it’s my MCU,Canyon said, getting excited. He’d put in a request for a Mobile Command Unit with a hologram table months ago, and Trevor had been promising him one ‘soon’ for weeks.
“Hell yeah, we can use it today.”
They drove past SPD on the way to the vehicle yard, both craning their necks to see if there was any damage. From the front, the buildings looked intact, but there was smoke belching from behind. They drove around the back with their windows down. The records building and the auto shop had both been hit—leveled, really. Bricks were everywhere, wires were arcing, and burst pipes were spraying water. Steam rose in the air. Patrol officers ran every which way. Radios squelched and someone spoke on a loudspeaker somewhere a block away, the words unintelligible. Sirens rose and fell all around.
Timber levered his upper body out of his window, craning to see. He came back in and sat, smelling like smoke and chemicals.
“I don’t see any injured.”
There’s no one in those buildings this early in the morning.
“Good thing they didn’t hit dispatch. It’s always packed.”
Canyon grunted agreement.
They drove past the station, past Dirty Deputy Park, to the vehicle yard. The moment they turned in, Canyon saw it, his MCU, parked directly in the center of the parking area. The MCUwas massive, like an oversized recreational vehicle pulled by a semi truck. The entire vehicle was colored silvery gray, except for the black tires.
I love it,Canyon said.
“That thing’s a monster,” Timber said, his voice appropriately awed.
It’s perfect.
Canyon parked next to it and got out. He walked up to the towering front grill and put his hands on it, staring up at the windshield. A truck pulled into the vehicle yard and right up next to them—Trevor.
“It came in last night,” Trevor said out his open window. “The hologram table took up the entire budget, so I had to get the vehicle used. Luckily, the FBI was selling this puppy at auction.” He handed Timber a sheath of papers. “Here’s the listing. They cleaned out their equipment, but the wiring is intact. The hologram table is bolted to the floor but not hooked into the power system yet. How long will it take you to get it operational?”
Canyon leaned against the grill of the truck and calculated.90 minutes,he said.
