There was a horn blaring somewhere far away. Whoever that was needed to shut up. No one cared. James tried to get up and yell at them to turn it off, knock it off, no one needs that right now.

“Sir?”

A light hand on his shoulder and James remembered everything. He sat up painfully, lifting his head from the steering wheel. The horn stopped abruptly.

“Sir, it’s okay,” a young woman was saying. “You’ve been in an accident. We’re here to help.”

He turned to see that the seat next to him was empty. Panic cut through the fog in his brain. “Where’s Amelia?” he demanded.

“Your friend is in the ambulance,” the woman replied. “Come on, we need to get you out of here.”

She reached over him and tried to unbuckle his seatbelt. It was jammed, so after a moment, she just sliced it apart and reached for his hand. James shakily got out of the seat, relieved that nothing seemed to be broken.

“You need to go to the hospital,” the woman said.

“No, I’m fine. Did someone check Robin?”

“Who’s Robin? Was there someone else in the car? I only saw two adults in the front seat.”

Wait, which car accident was this? James shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “No, it was just the two of us.”

“Let’s get up to the road so we can check you out. It’s okay, it’s probably just shock.”

Another paramedic was there now, a large, silent man. Between the two of them, they helped James up to the top of the embankment. The guardrail was smashed where the van had gone off the road and he could see an ambulance hurrying away.

“I need you to walk nine steps, heel to toe, along the white line.”

The male paramedic’s voice was gruff and James followed the instructions without thinking, the world still spinning slightly around him as he walked along the side of the road. He knew his balance was off and he staggered, a bolt of pain going through his head before he’d even made it to the third step. He dropped to his knees before reaching a fourth.

The man’s voice was above him now. “Stand up, get on one leg.”

Was he hallucinating? James stood up straight, but even before one foot was fully off the ground, he was falling again. The female paramedic caught him and he heard her say something to the man.

“We need to give you a blood alcohol test,” the man said. “Were you drinking tonight?”

It took a moment for the words to penetrate as James looked around the darkening wooded road, the lights on the police cruiser and ambulance pulsing hypnotically beside them. He turned to the man, who he now realized was a cop. “I’m not drunk,” he said.

“Can you tell us what happened?” the cop asked, sounding almost disinterested as he pulled out the breathalyzer.

“The… the brakes failed,” he said. “We were on our way home and they stopped working.”

“Blow.”

Mortified tears pricked his eyes as he leaned in and blew into the tube, sending another spike of pain through his head. “We were working,” he said.

“Witness back there said they saw you zigzagging on the road,” the cop said.

“It’s my brakes,” James repeated, trying to stay calm.

The paramedic put a hand on his shoulder. A moment later, the cop looked at the test and grunted. “You’re fine,” he said.

“I’m taking him to the hospital, that’s a non-existent blood alcohol content,” the paramedic said. “Come on. Don’t worry, hon, she’ll be okay.”

James wanted to get his stuff. His wallet was in the car and he should probably care about the Foundation gear in the backseat. But when he glanced down the hill and saw the smoking wreck of the van jammed between two trees, he nearly threw up. Stomach cold and mouth flooding with the taste of bile, he followed the paramedic to the ambulance.

Things got a little fuzzy as they were heading to the hospital. The paramedic was taking his vitals and talking to him, but it was as though all the energy had left his body and all he had left in him was worry. He didn’t know how much later it was, but eventually, he was in a hospital emergency room, tucked away in an alcove where nobody was able to tell him anything about Amelia.

He needed to get a phone. His own phone was smashed up in the van, along with his bag and ID. He needed to let the rest of the team know they were there. Graham and Madelyn were probably trying to get in touch with them right now. Did Amelia have her phone? Was she even conscious?

A young doctor came in a few minutes later to examine him. After a few minutes of uncomfortable inspection, she said that it seemed to be mostly bumps and bruises, probably some whiplash, but they’d do a scan for concussion. Any relief he felt from this was fleeting as he looked up at her from the bed.

“What about Amelia?” he asked.

“Who’s that?”

“My friend. She was in the car with me. They said she got taken here too.”

“She’s probably still getting checked,” the doctor said with an attempt at a comforting smile. “Just relax. She’s in good hands.”

He waited alone for an excruciating half-hour after that. A nurse came in eventually and set him up with an IV and some pain medication. It dulled the physical pain a little, letting him concentrate more on the fear that was churning inside him.

How long has he been here? He needed to get in touch with Headquarters.

“Excuse me,” he said, next time the same nurse came into his alcove. “Is there a phone I could use? Mine’s missing and I really need to tell my work where we are.”

“Hang on,” the nurse said. “I’ll check for you.”

She walked out, sliding the door halfway shut behind her. James sat back against the bed and tried to relax. The searing burn where his seatbelt had cut into his torso was ebbing now, along with the pain in his head and neck, thanks to the medication. He glanced at the IV tube snaking into the port in his arm, then sighed.

There was nothing he could do. But he’d been the one driving, and he needed to make sure Amelia was okay.

Had he caused it? He hadn’t been drinking, but maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe he’d fucked up somewhere along the line today and broken the van. No, they should have fought for a new one earlier. If he’d been more adamant about it, maybe the Foundation would have listened.

The nurse popped her head back in. “Give me just a second,” she said. “There’s something going on at the nurse’s station and then I’ll see what I can do for you.”

She hurried back out and James heard someone down the hall say, “Sir, you can’t be in here unless you’re with a patient.”

“I’m here for two of them,” a familiar voice snapped. “Ask Deb out at reception, she’ll vouch for me.”

Now he had to be hallucinating. It was the pain meds, they were stronger than he thought. James pushed himself up and carefully unraveled the IV pole from the tangle of equipment behind the bed. He stood up carefully, briefly wondered where his shoes were, then stepped out of the alcove, gripping the IV pole as it rolled beside him.

No, he was right. Bradley was standing at the nurse’s station, holding his ID out to the charge nurse with a shaking hand. James stepped out a little farther.

“Brad,” he called, cringing at how weak his voice sounded.

He cleared his throat and went to try again. But before he could, Bradley spun in his direction, as did every nurse surrounding them. James nodded, wobbling slightly as he waved to the nurses. “He’s with me. Sorry.”

Bradley looked more irritated than relieved and if James hadn’t known him for years, he would have thought that really was the case. He walked toward James, who was clinging to the IV pole for dear life. As he got to the alcove doorway, James, in a moment of fear, painkiller haze, or both, threw his arms around Bradley’s neck. Bradley’s coat was cold under his chin and he realized his fuckup immediately as Bradley froze in his grip. But then, shockingly, his arms were around James too.

“You idiot,” Bradley snapped, still gripping him tightly. “Get back in the bed before you kill yourself.”

The first nurse was back now, and she helped James back onto the bed, telling him if he needed to get up again, to call her or let his friend help. He nodded and then she walked out, leaving them alone.

“They won’t tell me where Amelia is,” James said. “They keep telling me she’s probably fine, but no one has any actual information.”

“I’ll find out,” Bradley said. “Madelyn is here too, she’s out in the waiting room. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

He slipped out of the room, and James closed his eyes for a moment. The fear wasn’t gone, but at least there were a couple more people here to help with it. That was, if Bradley didn’t get himself thrown out of the emergency room.

Before Bradley got back, a tech arrived to wheel James away for a CT scan. After what felt like forever, but was probably only twenty minutes or so, he was back in his alcove, where Bradley was waiting.

“How did you know we were here?” James asked, reaching for a cup of water on the small table beside him.

“They called us,” Bradley replied. “Amelia’s Foundation ID had us listed as her emergency contact.”

“They didn’t do that for me.”

“That’s because you never sent in that paperwork,” Bradley retorted, rolling his eyes.

“How is she?” James asked.

“She’s okay,” Bradley replied, and a wave of relief crashed over James. “They said she’ll probably be admitted overnight. I saw her a few minutes ago. She’s out of it, but okay. Broken arm, I think.”

The mix of relief and shame took his breath away. “I don’t know what happened,” James said. “The brakes stopped working. I don’t know if it’s something I did.”

“Like what?” Bradley asked, looking up at the equipment piled in the corner of the alcove.

“I don’t know. But the van just stopped working,” James said. “It was fine the whole time. Then we were on our way back and the brakes just stopped working.”

“Like they’d been cut?”

James thought of the squishy sensation of the pedal under his foot. “Yeah.”

“And you were at Delinsky’s before that.”

“Are you saying-”

“I’m not saying anything,” Bradley said, waving a hand. “That’d be irresponsible.”

Shit, he didn’t need to because now James was putting all the pieces together himself. “We went to Delinsky’s before lunch,” he said, lowering his voice. “The man I spoke to there said that they had no manager. He was really aggressive about getting me the hell out of there.”

“Huh.”

Bradley didn’t say anything else after that, and James was too exhausted to do more than worry about it.

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CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 10