“Rowan, they’re moving!” Maren screamed, bracing her hands on the dashboard.
The jet began to roll forward, turning onto the active runway. Once it hit speed, nothing could stop it.
I didn’t think. I just acted.
I pressed the accelerator to the floor. The SUV roared, hydroplaning slightly on the slick tarmac. We shot past the wing, aiming dead ahead of the nose gear.
“Brace!” I roared.
I twisted the steering wheel hard, throwing the SUV into a violent drift. We skidded sideways, tires screaming, directly into the path of the accelerating jet.
The impact was catastrophic.
FULL STORY INSIDE
The front landing gear of the Gulfstream slammed into the side of our vehicle with the force of a bomb. Metal shrieked. Airbags exploded in my face, a cloud of white powder and the sharp smell of deployed chemicals blinding me. The SUV was pushed sideways for fifty feet before the jet’s engines sputtered, choked, and died as the pilot engaged the emergency brakes to avoid a massive fuel fire.
