The smell of scorched parchment and burning resin billowed through the open window vent of Bus Number Zero-Four.
Outside, the clock on Auditor Ninety’s brass chest ticked down through its final seconds.
“Timer is at two seconds!” Clara Vance screamed from the front jump seat. “Zero-two... zero-one!”
“They’re firing the hydraulic rams beneath our tires!” Mac roared, bracing his boots against the floor. “Get your head down, kid!”
“Keep your foot on the floorboards, Mac!” Julian shouted back. “I’m not ducking!”
Julian shoved the eight-foot fiberglass pole through the narrow window slot.
“Elena, anchor my belt!” Julian yelled.
“I’ve got you, Julian!” Elena shouted, locking both hands into his leather utility belt. “Push it straight! Don’t let the wind take the paper!”
