who: logan and sloane where: suburbs of albany, georgia
neither of them had seen the storm coming—not until it was too late, anyway. the dark clouds overhead had been a nice change from the blazing georgia sun, and it’s only when the skies had gone completely dark does logan realise that something was amiss. “storm’s coming,” logan announces, although he’s pretty sure sloane would have noticed even if he hadn’t said anything. “we should probably find somewhere to hunker down until it passes.”
as if to prove his point, his suggestion is punctuated by a crack of thunder, so loud that he almost feels the car they’re in shake with the force of it. not good, he thinks, the lightning is too close. he hears sloane suggest heading to the motel they’d passed by on the way here, and he lets her lead the way, focusing all of his attention on driving in the suddenly diminished visibility conditions.
“sloane, put your seatbelt on.” normally, seatbelts are more of a liability than anything else, and they rarely make a habit of buckling in, especially when the difference between living and dying could very much depend on the few seconds it would take to undo a seatbelt. but logan hasn’t missed the way their vehicle had gone almost weightless for a few seconds, despite his best efforts to maintain traction.
he waits to hear the click of her seatbelt before taking a hand off the steering wheel to reach for his own, but just as his fingertips grasp the buckle, they’re enveloped by a sudden flash of white. it’s pure instinct that drives him to throw himself on top of sloane, and he only realises that the car windows have shattered when he feels the heavy rain pelting down on his back. the car lurches to the side, but thankfully they’re on a narrow road, and they only skid a small distance before crashing to a stop at the base of a tree.
the air filled with the scent of burning rubber, and even though logan kind of feels like he’s just been put through a food processor, he knows that they need to get out of there. “are you okay?” he asks, pulling his weight away and dropping back into the driver’s seat, ignoring the way it pushes the small bits of shattered glass deeper into his skin. “can you walk?”