We made it to the laboratory without mishap, although I did grip the hand rest tightly a few times at some near-collision misses. Dad was a lousy driver, for the most part. So, I was more than relieved to arrive at the security gate in one piece.
Two things struck me right away. We weren't at the East Street entrance but were entering through some strange gate where a bunch of portable buildings lined a long parking area. The two-story lab where my mom worked couldn't be seen from here. And the air had an odd quality to it. Like a bomb had gone off and blasted the buildings into a concrete dust that clouded the air and rained ash and debris down around us. Little did I know . . .
I sensed my dad's panic rising and could hear it in his voice as he spoke with the guard and gave his credentials. I couldn't make out the hushed whispering, but I heard the anger roil in my dad's throat. The guard tried to tell my dad to leave, and pointed in another direction. The whispering grew to yelling, until my dad rolled up his window, put the car in Reverse, then did something I never thought possible.
"Hang on," he said through clenched teeth. I saw the guard start to walk back into the security booth and I braced myself against the dash. I glanced back at Dylan and his demeanor hadn't changed. At least his seat belt was snug around his chest.
Dad threw the gearshift into Drive, and before the guard had a chance to run back toward us, Dad smashed through the wooden rail barricading the entry to the high-security Greenfield National Laboratory and high-tailed it full speed across the parking lot, sailing over the speed bumps and coming down each time with a hard clunk on the asphalt. He swung wide on the first curve and clipped the electric charge station. Any other day we'd have a dozen patrol cars fast on our tails with sirens screaming. But as I craned my neck to look out the rear window, no one pursued.
As we sped, the air grew thicker and darker. I don't know how my dad saw where he was going. In fact, to this day I believe he was just running on some kind of inner radar, dodging parked cars and careening around buildings, racing to Mom-or where he thought she would be. By the time we arrived at the police cordon, we were two blocks from the laser lab. I stuck my neck out the window I had lowered, ignoring the choking smoke and air so thick I had to pull my shirt over my mouth and suck through the fabric. The air smelled like hot asphalt when rain first hits it-like damp dirt and smoke and rubber tires.