"Good to hear from you, Paul. You've decided on your place, I assume?"
"That I have, Jason. Turn on the traffic report. If I don't hear from you by sunset, I'm going to suck these brats dry and come hunting for you."
The connection cut off without any further information. Fatigue making his fingers thick, Jason pulled up a traffic report on his phone. He tried to, at least. All of the normal traffic reports were being overridden with the same news. As he listened, Jason felt his skin pebble with a potent cocktail of rage and terror.
"...Camden City school bus has been stopped across several lanes of traffic on the Walt Whitman Bridge. What at first looked like a relatively minor traffic accident now appears to be the work of a single hijacker. Traffic jammed across all lanes is preventing police from..."
Jason killed the news and hit call-back with the same motion. The phone only rang once before he heard Paul's voice. The bastard had been waiting.
"Yeah. At least now you admit you're hopeless. Tell you what; you give up now, and I'll keep you alive when I find you."