A.J. McLean watched the sports car come careening towards him and slowed the bus. "Miracle they made that turn," he said to himself. "They gotta be on something. Dangerous, 'specially tonight."
It was about four am, the concert had ended around 11:30 and A.J. was on his way to the next town. The members of the band were all asleep, but A.J. was always hyper after a show, and was nowhere near being tired just yet. When the bus driver, who had a bad cold this week, decided he needed a nap, A.J. had been more than happy to take over. It had only stopped raining about half an hour ago; the roads were still slick. On this particular mountain road, water was still trickling down the hillside.
As the car zoomed past, A.J. shook his head. He wondered what his groupmates in the bus ahead had thought of the wackos who were still awake at four in the morning. "Not unlike this wacko," he reminded himself. "Wonder if any of them are still awake?"
The Backstreet bus had left the hotel not long before the band's bus, perhaps fifteen minutes. With the rain and the dark, A.J. had quickly lost sight of them. Now, he was keeping an eye out, intending to honk and wakeup whoever had decided to crash after the show. He kept driving, keeping a careful eye out on the winding road ahead of him. It wasn't long until he saw the twisted barrier, steam still rising off it after the impact. With a horrible feeling in his gut, A.J. parked the bus. "Just gonna see if anyone needs any help," he told himself.
He grabbed a flashlight from under the seat, and hopped out, trying to get a signal on his cell phone. Nothing. "Fuck no-service zones!" he yelled to the sky, trying to convince himself he was panicking over nothing. He made his way to the side of the road and peered down. What he saw made his knees give out. A.J. sank to the gravel, a choked whimper escaping from his throat. Halfway down the incline, lodged against a tree, upside down and smoking, was the Backstreet bus.
"Nick?"
Nick regained consciousness only to be hit with wave after wave of pain. Pain was bad, he decided and started to slip back into his peaceful piece of oblivion.
"Nickolas Gene Carter, don't you dare lose consciousness on me again!" the voice persisted. It was a strong, female voice, underlain with a thin edge of fear. He struggled to identify it.
"Lina?" His voice was hoarse. He tried telepathy instead, suddenly realising she wouldn't be anywhere she could hear him anyway. "Lina?"
"Yes! He's awake! He knows who I am!" she rejoiced to unknown others. "It's ok Nicky, we're going to get you out of there. It's gonna be ok now."
In a vague, indifferent sort of way he realised that something had happened, some kind of accident. Hence the pain. Lina must be heading the rescue mission. It was going to be fine. Lina had never let him down. He felt the warm, familiar tingle of teleportation.. but something twigged and he resisted.
"Wait." His muddled brain sorted things out while he 'pathed her, taking comfort from her ultra-familiar mental hold. "Pain. Accident. Bus? Am I on the bus?"
"Yes, sweetie. Let me get you out, now."
"I'm not alone. Where are the others? How are they?"
After a pause, where Lina actually thought to shield her conference from his mind, she replied. "Anyone else in there is unconscious. I heard you scream, but it took us fifteen minutes to get you conscious enough to actually feel you, and another five to get you this far."
"I'm more use to you and them in here."
"Nick, you need medical help."
"So do they. I won't leave them."
"!!" She growled and Nick actually found himself amused. "I'll pull you out by force."
"I'll resist." She'd win, but he might die in the process.
"DAMMIT! He's being unreasonable."
"Who's in charge here?" The new voice ricocheted in broadcast through the heads of every psychic on the rescue team, and Nick's as well.
"Mindi?" he reached out for the mind of Mindi Abair, the only other psychic on the tour.
"Oh my God. Nick. You're alive." She definitely felt hysterical.
Lina cut into their reunion. "Mindi? Lina Allen, special ops. You're the blonde up on the road there?"
"That's me. Is... are they..."
"IF Nick would let us move him, we'd get working on him and he'd be fine." Lina's exasperation was evident. "However he's insisting on participating in the rescue. Can you give us a hand?"
"I can't convince Mr. Stubborn, of anything... can I, Nick?" The mental impression of an affectionate kiss helped Nick forget about his physical pain for a few seconds. "Anything else?"
"You probably know it saves energy for us to all be present and visible in the physical plane. Cover us?"
"Um... the rest of the band's still asleep and I can keep 'em that way, no problem. A.J...."
"Oh god." For a split second Nick visualised himself on the road, looking down on whatever had happened ... to the other four. "Lina, go ahead. Don't worry about him. Mindi... explain to him we'll be all right."
"Great. I got Boner duty." The sarcastic crack made Nick grin... and hurt again.