Chapter 5 - Fire on the Ridge
The violent collision sent the heavy Chevrolet Tahoe spinning out of control. The tires lost all traction on the water-logged pavement, screeching as the SUV slid sideways off the asphalt, smashing through the rotten wooden guardrail.
"Hang on!" Vance roared.
The vehicle plummeted down the steep, wooded embankment, crashing through heavy branches and saplings that snapped like toothpicks against the steel frame. The air bags deployed with deafening pops, filling the cabin with white powder and the sharp smell of sodium azide. The SUV slammed into a massive oak tree at the bottom of the ravine, coming to a violent, shuddering halt.
For several long seconds, there was only the sound of steam hissing from the shattered radiator and the heavy patter of rain against the crushed roof.
Vance groaned, pushing the deflated airbag away from his face. Blood trickled down from a deep cut above his left eyebrow, but his instincts were sharp. He immediately reached back to check on the passengers. "Elena! Martha! Are you okay?"
In the backseat, Martha was coughing violently from the chemical dust, but she nodded weakly. "I... I think so. My shoulder hurts."
Elena was already sitting up, her face pale, her hands trembling as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "I’m okay. Vance, he’s coming down here!"
Above them, on the shoulder of the highway, bright halogen spotlights cut through the dark woods and heavy rain. The sound of heavy doors slamming shut echoed from the road above, followed by the crunch of boots descending the muddy slope.
"We have to move. Now," Vance said grimly. He unbuckled his seatbelt, reached under his seat, and pulled out a heavy canvas tactical bag containing a Remington 870 shotgun and extra ammunition. He cracked open his door, pushing against the crumpled metal until it popped open with a groan.
He helped Elena and Martha out of the wreckage. The rain fell mercilessly, soaking their clothes within seconds and turning the muddy slope into a slick, dangerous slide.
"Head up into the tree line toward the north," Vance ordered, pointing into the deep gloom of the forest. "There’s a fire trail about two hundred yards up. It leads directly to my brother's cabin. Go! I’ll buy you time."
"Vance, no! You can't fight them alone!" Elena protested, gripping his leather sleeve.
"I’m not fighting them alone, kid. I’ve got thirty years of tactical terrain advantage," Vance said, racking a 12-gauge shell into the chamber of the shotgun with a sharp, terrifying clack-clack. "Now move!"
Elena bit her lip, pulled her mother by the hand, and began scrambling through the dense underbrush, using the darkness as a shield.
Vance slipped behind the thick trunk of an ancient pine tree, sinking into the shadows. He clicked off his flashlight, relying entirely on his eyes adjusting to the dark.
Down the slope, three armed figures descended carefully through the mud, their tactical flashlights cutting beams through the falling rain. In the center was Collins, wielding a tactical rifle, flanked by two heavily armed men wearing unmarked black gear.
"Vance!" Collins’s voice boomed through the quiet woods, laced with arrogant venom. "I know you survived that crash! Give me the girl and the phone, and maybe I’ll let you crawl away into retirement!"
Vance didn't answer. He waited, breathing slowly through his nose, waiting for the targets to enter his engagement zone.
The man on the left stepped over a fallen log, raising his flashlight to check behind a cluster of boulders. As the light beam passed Vance's position, the Sheriff stepped out from behind the pine tree.
BOOM!
The heavy 12-gauge blast roared through the valley, bright muzzle flash illuminating the dark woods. The heavy buckshot hit the leftmost mercenary directly in the chest, lifting him off his feet and throwing him backward into the mud.
"Contact left!" Collins screamed, dropping behind a rock and blind-firing a spray of automatic rounds toward Vance’s position. Bullets tore through the tree bark above Vance’s head, showering him with wood splinters.
The second mercenary advanced, firing controlled bursts toward the flash of Vance’s shotgun. Vance rolled through the wet leaves, coming up on one knee behind a thick granite outcrop. He pumped the shotgun and fired again.
BOOM!
The round shattered the mercenary's shoulder, dropping him to the ground with a agonized scream.
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Collins cursed loudly, scrambling backward up the hill. He realized instantly that in the pitch-black woods, against a man who had hunted these mountains for four decades, he was at a deadly disadvantage. "You can't protect her forever, Sheriff!" Collins shouted, his voice receding as he retreated toward his vehicle. "Thorne owns every road out of this county! You're already dead!"
Vance didn't chase him. He checked the fallen men, securing their weapons and communication gear, before turning his back on the crash site and disappearing into the black forest toward Elena.
