Chapter 8 - The Test
Eight months later.
It was an icy winter evening in Seattle. Rain had turned to sleet, making the roads slick and hazardous across the city.
Elle was returning from a late-evening charity gala hosted by the Vance Foundation, driven by her private chauffeur in her heavy armored Maybach. Violet and Clara, now eighteen months old, were fast asleep in their car seats in the spacious rear cabin.
As they crossed the steep, winding bridge near Lake Washington, a heavy commercial delivery truck ahead of them hit a patch of black ice. The truck jackknifed wildly, smashing into the concrete barrier and spinning across three lanes of traffic.
"Hold on!" her driver yelled, slamming on the brakes.
The Maybach skidded across the icy asphalt, colliding with the rear bumper of a spun-out SUV before coming to a violent stop against the median guardrail.
Airbags deployed with a loud CRASH.
Inside the cabin, smoke filled the air. Elle gasped for breath, her head ringing from the impact. She instantly reached back to the rear seats.
"Violet! Clara!" she cried out.
The babies were crying hysterically, frightened by the sudden shock and the loud noise, but their car seats had held firm. They were safe.
"Ma'am, are you alright?" her driver groaned, trying to push his jammed door open. "The driver's side is pinned against the barrier!"
Elle tried her door. It was completely crushed inward from the impact with the SUV, jammed tight into the frame. The electronic locks were dead.
Outside, flames began to flicker from the crumpled engine bay of the truck ten yards away.
Panic seized Elle's chest. "We need to get out! The doors are stuck!"
Suddenly, a figure appeared through the swirling sleet outside the Maybach's rear window.
A man wearing a neon warehouse jacket and heavy work boots sprinted toward the car. He had been driving three vehicles back in a small company pickup truck on his way home from his evening shift.
He grabbed the handle of the rear passenger door, hauling on it with all his strength.
"Elle! Elle, can you hear me?!"
It was Ryan.
"Ryan!" Elle screamed through the cracked window. "The doors are jammed! The babies are inside!"
Ryan didn't hesitate for a single second. He sprinted back to his pickup truck, grabbed a heavy iron tire iron from the truck bed, and ran back through the freezing rain.
"Cover your face!" Ryan yelled.
He smashed the tire iron against the upper corner of the rear window, shattering the tempered glass into thousands of tiny, harmless fragments. He reached his bare, calloused arms through the jagged frame, clearing the glass away without caring about the deep cuts forming on his hands and wrists.
He reached inside, unbuckling Clara's car seat harness first, lifting her safely out through the window into the icy air.
"I've got her! I've got her!" Ryan shouted, holding the screaming baby tight against his warm wool jacket. He handed Clara to a bystander who had run up to help, before leaning back through the window to grab Violet.
With blood dripping from his arms onto his jacket, Ryan carefully lifted Violet out, pulling her close to his chest.
Finally, Ryan jammed the tire iron into the door seam of the front passenger side, throwing his entire body weight against the steel lever until the door burst open with a loud metallic screech.
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He reached in and pulled Elle out of the smoking vehicle, wrapping his arms around her to support her unsteady legs as they stumbled away from the wreckage toward the safety of the highway embankment.
Moments later, emergency sirens echoed across the bridge as fire trucks and ambulances arrived on the scene.
