It happened fast. Screeching tires, neighbors screaming, multiple gunshots. And now his only son needed medical attention. Stat.
But the local authorities wanted him. He heard helicopters circling above. Saw spike strips covering three lanes of highway.
Patrick didn’t care. He was pure adrenaline. His child was in the backseat bleeding out and they were nowhere near that hospital.
He gunned his Prius, the accelerator now pinned. He swerved onto the shoulder – just missing those spike strips – and was right back on the highway.
Salvation was right over that hill, he knew. And Patrick had every intention of snatching it.
The Weekday One Hundred 