Chapter 8 - Ambush on the Ridge
"Hold on!" Marcus shouted, stomping the gas pedal.
The old Ford Explorer's engine roared, its tires spinning for traction on the rain-slicked mountain asphalt before surging forward into the darkness.
Behind them, the lead Suburban accelerated aggressively, closing the gap to fifty yards. A spotlight mounted on the Suburban's roof clicked on, blinding Marcus through his rearview mirror.
"How did they find us?" Diane panicked, clutching her laptop to her chest. "I removed the SIM cards from all our phones!"
"The Explorer," Marcus said through gritted teeth as he wrestled the steering wheel around a treacherous hairpin turn. "It's an impound vehicle. The county uses LoJack GPS transmitters wired directly into the chassis. They tracked the transponder!"
The lead Suburban slammed into the Explorer’s rear bumper with a deafening metallic crunch.
The impact sent the Explorer fishtailing toward the edge of the mountain road, where a flimsy wooden guardrail was all that separated them from a three-hundred-foot ravine. Marcus counter-steered with expert precision, fighting the spin until the tires gripped the pavement again.
"Ethan, Sarah, get your heads down between your knees!" Marcus ordered.
He reached into his jacket, pulled out the captured Glock 19, and handed it to Diane. "Rack the slide. Can you shoot?"
Diane’s hands shook, but she took the weapon and racked it. "I grew up on a farm in Montana. I can hit a coyote at fifty yards."
"Then blow out their driver's side tire when they try to pit us!"
The mountain road narrowed as it entered Blackwood Gorge, flanked on the left by sheer rock walls and on the right by a steep cliff. The second Suburban pulled up along the driver’s side of the Explorer, its tinted passenger window rolling down to reveal a gunman in tactical gear leveling an automatic shotgun.
"Down!" Marcus yelled, slamming the brakes.
The shotgun blasted, blowing out the Explorer's front passenger window in an explosion of tempered glass.
Because Marcus had braked suddenly, the Suburban surged ahead of them. Diane leaned out the shattered window, braced both hands against the door frame, and fired three rapid shots into the Suburban’s rear left tire.
The tire shredded with a violent pop. The heavy SUV swerved wildly, losing control on the wet asphalt, spinning across both lanes before violently flipping three times and crashing into the rock face in a massive shower of sparks.
"One down!" Diane yelled, adrenaline surging through her veins.
"The other one is coming up fast!" Ethan yelled from the back seat.
The lead Suburban surged forward, ramming the Explorer’s rear quarter panel. The old Ford spun out, skidding sideways across the road, its front tires smashing through the wooden guardrail and hanging precariously over the dark abyss of the ravine.
The engine sputtered and died.
Thirty yards away, the remaining Suburban screeched to a halt across the road. Four armed men in black tactical jackets stepped out into the pouring rain, raising assault rifles as they advanced toward the stranded Explorer.
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"Out of the car! Right side, into the tree line!" Marcus commanded, kicking open the passenger door.
Marcus scooped Ethan into his arms, while Diane and Sarah scrambled out behind him. They threw themselves over the embankment into the dense, black foliage of the forest just as a hail of rifle fire tore through the metal body of the Explorer.
