Thanks?That would be a first.
I don’t leave her space, and she straightens. “Yes sir.”
Those two words leaving her mouth do something to me they really shouldn’t. I have to put space between us before I’m tempted to do something stupid, like her job for her.
That’s the last thing Tennison needs. Schmiddy’s already pitting her to fail. He’s subtle about his sabotage, but I see right through the waste of oxygen. If Tennison fails, or Davey, Schmiddy will keep a place with 53.
Over my rotting damn corpse.
I’d take Tennison or Davey over that asshole any day.
The sounds of exertion pull me from my reverie that I can’t afford right now. I spin back to find Tennison struggling with the crowbar. Her focus is glued to the bus driver who’s slumped over the steering wheel.
Her chest snaps up and down at a rapid pace.
I’ll give her one more minute to work the door open.
Give her the chance to?—
The crowbar clatters to the road.
“Fuck!” The back of her hand presses to her mouth.
“Cap? A little help?” Davey calls from the jaws.
My gaze swings between my two charges. Both points of entry are equal in importance.
The doors on the passenger’s side are significantly easier than the window and side panel.
“Owens! Jaws, stat.” I stride back to Tennison. Plucking up the bar, I shove it between the doors. Three swift pulls, and I have the doors cracked open. Tennison’s face wobbles but doesn’t break.
I haul the doors open.
She watches, fighting off something I can’t place, her expressions changing like the seasons.
“Survey the mobility of each passenger and report back. Ambulances will be here any minute, and we need to be able to ascertain who we can move first.”
She’s nodding.
But she doesn’t move.
“Tennison,” I say, my words softer. “Time is everything.”
She looks up, meeting my gaze. “Yes sir.” The words are barely audible.
She steps into the bus, and I crouch down to track the gas leak. The stream never made it to a puddle, so I’m guessing the leak has slowed or stopped.
Eyeing the underside of the engine bay, I find a steady drip of gas that falls every other second. Slow. Good. Tennison’s steady footsteps move through the bus, as I stand and watch her slowly check over each elderly passenger.
She returns, and I make a quick assessment of the opening Owens and Davies made. Only the abled will access the smaller opening. Anyone with a walker or needing assistance will haveto use the main doors. “Owens, Davies, I’ll send out the able-bodied your way. Tennison, help me with the less able through the main doors.”
“Yes sir,” Davies and Tennison say in unison.
“On it, Cap.” Owens winks at me.
I wish they’d drop this stupid idea they’ve been obsessing over for the past few weeks. Owens and her wink tells me they are far from letting this go.
I lead the way into the bus, and Tennison files in behind me.
