Chapter 55 - The Perimeter at Rubicon Point
I didn't hesitate. I threw my entire weight against Charles, driving him sideways behind the bulk of an eight-foot granite boulder just as a suppressed three-round burst whispered through the pines.
*Thwip-thwip-thwip.*
The 5.56 rounds shattered against the stone where our heads had been a split-second earlier, showering my face in sharp stone chips and lead fragments.
"Stay down! Don't move!" I shouted over the dull thud of the suppressed fire.
I drew my SIG Sauer P226 from its holster, flicking the thumb safety off with muscle memory honed across seven combat deployments. The weapon was dripping wet, but the Navy SEAL-standard finish was built for salt water, mud, and ice.
Peering around the rim of the rock, my eyes adjusted to the pitch-black shadows of the Sierra forest. Two silhouettes were moving through the pines fifty yards upslope, their tactical helmets outfitted with high-end dual-tube night vision. They were moving in a disciplined bounding overwatch—contractors, professional and silent. They weren't law enforcement. They were a scorched-earth cleanup crew.
I keyed my headset. "Sarah, I have eyes on two hostiles advancing downslope from the ridge road. They have night vision and suppressed carbines. Where is my extraction?"
"Ethan, they've jammed the local cell towers around Rubicon Point," Sarah’s voice crackled through severe interference. "Federal agents are en route, but the snowstorm on Donner Pass has closed Highway 89. Ground support is at least twelve minutes out. You have to break the line yourself!"
Twelve minutes might as well have been an eternity.
The first shooter moved from behind a thick sugar pine, advancing low to flank our position from the high ground. He raised his rifle, sighting in on the narrow gap between the boulders.
I timed his movement against the rhythm of his footsteps on the wet gravel. Three, two, one—
I stepped out from behind the boulder, leveling the P226 with both hands. In the dark, without night vision, I aimed for the tiny green reflection of his optical sight.
Two rapid double-taps cracked through the Sierra night.
The first shooter crumpled instantly, his rifle clattering down the rocky slope as his body slid into the snowbanks.
Immediately, the second contractor opened up, spraying fully automatic fire across the granite boulder, chewing through pine bark and stone, pinning me down. The ricochets shrieked into the icy water behind us.
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"Ethan!" Charles cried out, clutching his knees in the shadows, curled in the mud. "They’re going to kill us! Give them the case! Just throw it to them!"
"Shut up," I snapped, pulling an incendiary flare from my tactical vest. "If they get that case, Charles, neither of us makes it to dawn."
