Chapter 7 - GHOSTS OF THE PAST
The impact sent the SUV fishtailing across the rain-slicked asphalt of Route 41. I wrestled the wheel, countering the skid, but a second heavy tactical truck struck our front quarter panel, forcing us off the road and down a steep wooded embankment.
The SUV rolled once, smashing through thick pine branches before coming to a violent halt against a boulder near the edge of the swollen Des Plaines River.
Steam hissed from the crumpled radiator. My head spun, blood dripping into my eyes from a split forehead. "Evelyn! Grace!"
"I'm here," Evelyn coughed, kicking open her jammed door and rolling out into the muddy ditch with her submachine gun ready. "Grace is conscious, but we have multiple hostiles descending the ridge!"
I unbuckled my harness and pulled Grace from the wreckage. She had bruised her ribs, but her eyes were razor-focused. "Dad, three shooters coming down the slope. Two more flanking from the riverbank. They're trying to pin us against the water."
The sound of rain was deafening, but to Grace, the rain was a sonic canvas. Every raindrop bouncing off the mercenaries' tactical vests gave her their exact coordinates.
"Dad, target at two o'clock, behind the large oak tree. Wait for the thunder... shoot on the crack."
A blinding flash of lightning lit up the forest, instantly followed by a deafening roar of thunder. In that exact microsecond, I leaned around the crumpled SUV and fired three rounds into the silhouette behind the oak tree. The mercenary fell without a sound, masked by the storm.
"Riverbank flanker, moving fast at nine o'clock!" Grace called out.
Evelyn pivoted, unleashing a controlled burst through the tall reeds. A mercenary tumbled headfirst into the rushing river currents.
"They're closing the perimeter," Evelyn shouted over the howl of the wind. "Julian, take Grace and cross the shallow footbridge half a mile south! I'll hold the ridge and draw their main fire!"
"No," Grace said, grabbing Evelyn's wrist with unexpected strength. "We don't leave family behind. Mom taught you how to fight, but she taught me how to read the terrain. Look at the mud slide above the road."
Evelyn glanced up through the downpour. "The retaining wall is cracked."
"If you shoot the support struts of the old drainage culvert with your high-explosive round," Grace explained rapidly, "the entire hillside will collapse onto their lead vehicles."
Evelyn didn't hesitate. She grabbed the under-barrel launcher from her pack, loaded a 40mm breaching round, and fired directly into the rusted iron culvert fifty yards uphill.
The explosion tore the foundation apart. Thousands of tons of wet earth, crushed stone, and uprooted trees came roaring down the embankment like a tidal wave, crushing the enemy trucks and burying the remaining mercenaries under a mountain of mud.
The road was clear.
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"Let's move," I said, hauling Grace into my arms as we vanished into the dark, protective canopy of the forest.
***
