Chapter 7 - The Alpine Chase
The logging tunnel was narrow, damp, and smelled of earth and rot.
Miles pushed Everett in a heavy-duty wooden handcart normally used for hauling firewood, while Evelyn led Nora by the hand, holding a single flickering flashlight. Behind them, the faint echoes of shouting mercenaries echoed down the stone shaft.
“They’re setting charges to blast the cellar door!” Evelyn panted, her high heels broken, her fine suit covered in mud. “We have fifteen minutes before they catch up!”
After two hundred yards of rough subterranean travel, the tunnel opened up into an abandoned sawmill at the edge of a roaring mountain river. The storm had turned the river into a churning torrent of white water and floating debris.
Parked inside the rotting wooden shed was Everett’s old 1978 Land Cruiser, covered in a dusty tarp.
“Does it run?” Miles asked frantically, pulling off the tarp.
Everett hauled himself into the passenger seat, his hands trembling as he reached under the dashboard. “I built this truck myself, Arthur. It doesn't rely on modern electronics or computer chips. It runs on pure mechanics.”
Miles jumped into the driver’s seat, stripped the wires under the steering column, and hot-wired the engine.
VROOM!
The old V8 engine roared to life, shooting black exhaust into the damp air of the mill.
“Get in!” Miles roared.
Evelyn threw Nora into the back seat and climbed in beside her just as the doors of the sawmill were blown inward by a concussion grenade.
Miles slammed his foot on the accelerator. The Land Cruiser smashed through the rotting wooden doors of the mill, airborne for a terrifying second before crashing down onto the muddy mountain trail.
Behind them, two high-powered black SUVs burst from the tree line, their high-beams blinding in the rear-view mirror.
“They’re on us!” Evelyn screamed, leaning over Nora to protect her.
The chase down the winding, ice-slick mountain road was a nightmare of roaring engines and screeching tires. The mercenaries’ SUVs pulled up alongside the Land Cruiser, trying to ram the older vehicle off the cliff edge into the raging river below.
CRASH!
The Land Cruiser shuddered, metal scraping violently against metal. Sparks rained into the dark night.
“Turn left here!” Everett shouted over the roar of the wind. “Toward the old Leavenworth bridge!”
“That bridge has been closed for ten years!” Miles yelled back, fighting the steering wheel as the truck slid across a patch of mud.
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“Trust me, Arthur!” Everett begged, looking back at Miles. “It’s the only way!”
Miles gritted his teeth, smashed his foot down on the gas pedal, and turned the heavy steel steering wheel toward the dark abyss of the canyon.
