Danger Zone (File One of The First Responders Files)

Chapter Twenty

Once again . . . 9.8K words. Guess that's what happens when you manage to fit an entire episode into a chapter.

The 126 chases a tank, the Vegas run into a situation, Tim isn't a happy camper, Tommy asserts herself as a badass, Owen and Sylvie hang around, and TK has good aim with a hose. Also, in case it wasn't clear, COVID-19 is non-existent in this universe, so just . . . roll with it, if something doesn't make sense.

Enjoy!

***

Three Months Later

"So here's something you don't see every day," the newscast in the dispatch center announced as dispatchers ran around frantically. "A military tank on the streets of Austin. Sources are saying it's an M1 Abrams first used in combat during the Persian Gulf War. Apparently, whoever's driving that thing stole it from the Texas Military Forces Museum in the last half hour or so. Police should have no trouble finding him. He's left a trail of destruction for more than a mile."

That's something, at least, Grace couldn't help but think with a snort as she looked up from her computer. "His name's Lieutenant John Vasquez," she reported to her supervisor. "The curator at the museum says he volunteers there, helps maintain the equipment."

"Inform Austin PD," Elliot ordered. "See if you can get a number on the guy."

"Copy that," Grace nodded, sitting back in her chair.

***

Carlos was somehow going to find a way to blame the crazy Austin 126 crew for what he was driving into. Somehow he was going to blame them, because Austin had never been this wild before they had showed up.

He whipped the wheel of his car sharply and parked it in the center of the street, right in the path of the oncoming tank. "Park 'em at least two deep!" he bellowed to the cruisers driving behind him.

"We're talking about a 57-ton tank!" one of them protested as the officers piled out of their cars. "You really think he'll stop for this?"

"No," Carlos shook his head, drawing his gun. "But hopefully his treads will get stuck when he tries to go over."

"And if he decides to just shoot us with the cannon?" she asked.

Carlos side-eyed her. He thought it was rather obvious what they would do. "Duck." The woman balked, but drew her sidearm with the others. "Everybody, take cover!" Carlos ordered as the tank came closer. "And get ready to run."

The barricade of police officers held steady, their guns aimed at the tank . . . which, feet before the barricade, took a sharp left turn and plowed through the sign announcing the entrance of a neighborhood. Carlos watched it go, eyes wide, then he clicked on his radio.

"Somebody needs to come up with a new plan!"

***

Of course we're the ones coming up with a new plan, Owen thought with a sigh as he listened to the police incident commander over his headset. "Where do you want us, Sergeant?" he asked.

"Hell if I know," Sergeant Stokes scoffed. "We got no idea where he's going, and we can't talk to him. Apparently, everything on that tank works except the radio, and he's not picking up his phone."

There was an amused snort from the driver of their rig, echoed by a small snicker behind Owen. That would be too easy, Owen couldn't help but agree with his crew. "So you know who he is?" he asked.