The red book, p.30
The Red Book, page 30
With the help of the tire jacks, the officers get enough momentum, pushing the concrete up to a ninety-degree angle and then toppling it over in the other direction.
Revealing an area of grass untouched by the soot. But covered with Carla’s blood.
“That’s better,” Carla whispers, her eyes closed.
“Good,” I say. “Medevac’s on its way. Hang with me, kid. C’mon, hang with me.”
She doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t open her eyes.
“Carla!” I shout.
“Carla,” I whisper.
James Patterson, The Red Book
