Chapter 30 - Ghosts on the Blacktop
"Scatter!" Vance roared.
A silenced burst of automatic fire ripped through the canopy, chewing the tree trunk above Matteo into toothpicks. The drone was armed.
Vance brought his rifle up in a single, fluid motion, leading the target by half an inch, and squeezed the trigger twice. The twin gunshots popped like dry twigs. The drone’s portside rotor disintegrated, sending the machine spiraling down into the mud where its battery pack erupted in a sharp flash of blue flame.
"The whole valley heard that," Valentina said, already sprinting through the ditch with Owen clutched tight against her chest. "They're coming."
Through the trees, twin pairs of xenon headlights cut through the darkness, engine roars tearing through the storm. Two heavily modified Ford F-350s—the private enforcement vehicles of Pendelton Tactical—burst onto the logging trail, tires churning mud as they accelerated directly toward the ravine.
"Over the embankment!" Vance pointed toward an overgrown culvert leading to an abandoned state highway. "I parked an off-grid contingency vehicle two miles east, near the old timber depot!"
They scrambled down the steep, slick gravel slope. Behind them, vehicle doors slammed open, followed by the crisp, coordinated shouts of mercenary operators deploying into tactical sweep formations.
"Target confirmed on the lower grade! Non-lethal on the child, lethal authorization on all adult escorts!"
Rounds tore through the bushes around them, snapping branches and kicking up geysers of wet gravel. Vance spun around, dropping to one knee, providing suppressive fire. His rhythmic double-taps bought them precious seconds, forcing the lead mercenaries to dive behind the vehicle bumpers.
Valentina hit the asphalt of the old state highway, her lungs burning, her muscles screaming with fatigue. She reached the rusted chain-link fence of the abandoned timber yard. Tucked beneath an overgrown tarp behind a decaying sawmill sat Vance’s contingency—a matte-black, unbadged 1998 Chevy Suburban, stripped of all modern electronics and tracking units.
"Get in! Get in!" Vance sprinted past them, ripping the canvas tarp away and shoving a physical key into the door lock. The heavy steel door swung open.
Matteo threw himself into the rear passenger seat, gasping for breath. Valentina climbed into the middle row, holding Owen close, shielding him with her own body.
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Vance hot-wired the ignition bypass he had rigged years ago. The heavy V8 engine roared to life with an unrefined, mechanical thunder that rattled the frame. He dropped the transmission into gear, slammed his foot onto the accelerator, and smashed through the rusted timber yard gate just as a hail of high-caliber rounds shattered the rear windshield, showering them with safety glass.
Tires screaming, the heavy truck fishtailed onto the rain-slicked highway, tearing into the black wilderness as the sirens began to wail in the distance.
