JONNY QUEST, THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST, THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST LOGO, AND ALL RELATED CHARACTERS COPYRIGHT © 1996-2015 WARNER BROTHERS ANIMATION, A SUBSIDIARY OF TIME WARNER, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS FICTION IS PROTECTED BY FAIR USE LAWS UNDER THE APPROPRIATE JURISDICTIONS. THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST: DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN COPYRIGHT © 2015 ADAM HARDIN. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL EVENTS, LOCATIONS, OR INDIVIDUALS IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THIS WORK IS PROTECTED BY THE "FAIR USE" DOCTRINE, SECTIONS 107-118 OF TITLE 17, UNITED STATES COPYRIGHT CODE, OF THE UNITED STATES COPYRIGHT OFFICE, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. THE AUTHOR CLAIMS NO OWNERSHIP OF THE ORIGINAL WORKS. THIS WORK IS FOR FREE DISTRIBUTION; THE AUTHOR CLAIMS NO RIGHTS TO ANY PROFITS OR PROCEEDS GENERATED BY THIS PUBLICATION.

It was a routine traffic stop on a cool spring night at forty-two minutes after nine PM on the twenty-third of May, 2006. According to my cruiser's temperature gauge it was sixty-five degrees out. I had stopped a 1997 green Oldsmobile Eighty-Eight for speeding. We pulled over into the grassy median that separated Upper Mechanic Street and the short road of Melvin Heights.

I keyed my radio, "83-10 to dispatch."

Dispatch came over the air: "Go ahead, 83-10."

"83-10, license plate check on Maine… hang on."

The driver side door of the Oldsmobile opened. It was a clear night with millions of starts in the sky; the moon displayed ambient light over what my headlights and light bar didn't illuminate. I dropped the car radio microphone back into its seat and got out of my car.

"Come on back here!" I shouted to the driver.

It was hard to tell in the darkness, but I believed the driver was a female. I could see a child's car seat in the back. The driver faltered for a moment before sticking her legs out. Strangely, she was barefoot… and her jeans were stained with a dark crimson color. When her torso emerged I knew I was in trouble. I immediately ripped the Velcro band on my holster off that was used to hold my gun in place and removed it.

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" I screamed. "LET ME SEE THOSE HANDS!"

A dark brunette emerged quickly holding two semiautomatic handguns. Her white blouse was covered in blood and soaked with something else. With one gun pointed inside the car and the other pointed at me, she opened fire on both weapons. I could hear a child screaming from inside the car as bullets tore into my windshield and hood. I ducked behind my door and peered around.

I began screaming into my radio's microphone clipped onto my shoulder, "83-10 SHOTS FIRED! SHOTS FIRED! 10-33! INTERSECTION OF…"

The door window above me exploded as more bullets slammed into the door. I stood upright and returned fire, firing four forty-caliber shots at the deranged woman. She jerked backwards and fell into her door, slumping down to the ground.

Sergeant Billy Beam came over the radio. "Jonny!" he shouted. "Where the hell are you, son?!"

I ducked behind my door again and grabbed the microphone to my car's radio. My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest and drag my lungs with it. I was sweating profusely. Somehow I managed to find the words needed.

I stuttered, "Intersection of Upper Mechanic Street… Melvin Heights…"

"10-4, son; dispatch, can you see if you can get ahold of county?"

"10-4, 83-3, sheriff's deputies are en route," dispatch responded.

"10-84, dispatch."

"Five minutes 83-3. 83-10, do you need an ambulance?"

"10-4," I said. "I'm…"

A bullet hit the pavement in front of my left foot. I peered around in time to see the woman with a grill lighter pulling the trigger. I raised my gun and pointed it at her head.

"Don't do it!" I pleaded.

The woman was crying uncontrollably as blood ran from the corners of her mouth. A pool of blood was forming underneath her back. With the last pull of the plastic trigger the flame emerged. Immediately the shooter and car was ablaze. I screamed profanity as I continued to hear a child screaming from the back seat. As I ran around my car the deranged suspect—now on fire—stood erect and pointed her gun at me. Mortally wounded or not, she was determined to end my life that night. A bullet whizzed by my thick blonde hair and hit my light bar. I crouched low and emptied the rest of my clip into her. Her body jolted back with each impact before falling face first into the asphalt as the flames consumed her and her car.

I ran to the passenger side and looked in the front seat. A four year old little girl with blonde hair wearing a large pink night shirt was slumped over from a bullet wound to the side of her skull. In the backseat was another blonde girl—this one probably a year younger—wearing a large blue night shirt was strapped in tight. Her face was red from the copious amounts of screaming and crying she had been doing.

She was wailing for her parents and her sister.

The flames began to consume the front dashboard and quickly moved past the driver seat. There was no time to stop and assess the situation adequately: this girl had to be removed immediately. I tore open the back door and reached inside, scrambling to undo the buckle.

"God-fucking-dammit," I muttered as I reached into my pocket for my knife. I pulled out the pocketknife, selected the largest blade, and went to work on the safety harness that held the girl prisoner. The car and child reeked of gasoline. I glanced down into the floorboard to discover four large gas cans.

I worked faster as the entire front compartment of the car was engulfed. The heat was starting to become unbearable as was the lack of oxygen.

I cut through the last strap and removed the girl from her seat. Carrying her in my arms close to my chest I bolted as fast as I could to my patrol car. Diving into the driver seat with the child still in my arms I slammed my car into reverse and floored it about fifty yards. After coming to a screeching halt at what I considered a safe distance, the car exploded, filling the night sky with flames and thick plumes of smoke. Sirens could be heard in the distance. I exited the vehicle with the little girl in my arms and sat down at my rear tire. She held onto me and cried, gasping for breath. I held onto her and tried to comfort her to the best of my abilities but just couldn't find the words needed.

All of my adventures, all of my enemies that I had encountered in my twenty-three years of existence, I had never…

I didn't notice Billy running up to me followed by paramedics. I also didn't hear the firetrucks rolling up onto the scene. I do remember looking up into Billy's hazel eyes behind his thin glasses and seeing his oval face, asking me if I was alright. An EMT took the girl from me as Billy got down on his knees in front of me and began searching for any gunshot wounds.

I looked down at my holster and removed my service firearm, a Springfield Armory XDM with black grips and a silver slide. I dropped it onto the ground and buried my face in my hands. I could feel Billy put his arms around me as I began to weep.

There would be much more bloodshed coming.

Much, much more.