A trained athlete with a head start, Alex Culver easily reached the motor pool before anyone else. He tossed his hockey stick in through the open window, jumped into the driver's seat and started the engine with the push of a button. Alex smirked at the full fuel gauge. Granted, this wouldn't get him terribly far in this gas guzzler, but it'd do. Besides, if he had read [i]USA Today[/i] correctly, then he understood one of these babies cost $65,000. Seemed an appropriate price level for him. He didn't want to be seen in some grocery wagon.

He peeled out of the garage, practically on two wheels. The suspension was a little stiffer than his Hummer, the steering a little tougher. It didn't have the satellite radio or heated leather seats of his ride, either. But it was essentially the same deal. He could handle this, no sweat. 

Alex could hear that the firing had dropped off to short, intermittent bursts. Ordinarily he might assume that meant the Marines had won, but the screams and fleeing civilians suggested otherwise. Too many geeks. Alex pulled to a halt in the midst of the chaos, laid on the horn in several sharp bursts. Leaning out the window, he yelled to anyone who could hear. "Free ride! Anyone! Get in, plenty of room!"

He wished his agent was here, this would be great for his image. Professional athlete stops to rescue refugees. Man, that would trend all over Twitter. He could worry about that later, though. He slammed the horn again. "C'mon, people, move it or lose it! Somebody get in here!"