Chapter 11 - The Fall into the Ravine
The blast wave of the exploding truck slammed into their backs like a physical wall, launching Sarah and Jax over the edge of the steep, rocky drop-off. For a terrifying second, they were airborne, tumbling through a cloud of smoke, ash, and flying gravel.
Sarah wrapped her entire body around Emma, curling into a tight defensive ball as they hit the steep slope of scree and loose shale, sliding uncontrollably downward through the brush and pine needles.
Pain flared across Sarah’s shoulders and arms as she slammed against jagged rocks, but she refused to let go of her daughter.
With a heavy, jarring thud, they crashed into a thick patch of wild berry bushes at the bottom of the ravine, coming to a dead stop. Dust and soot billowed around them, blotting out the morning sun.
Coughing violently, Sarah pushed herself up, her clothes torn, her arms scraped and bleeding.
“Emma! Emma, baby, talk to me!” Sarah gasped, frantically peeling back the dirt-covered jacket from her daughter.
Emma blinked open her eyes, tears streaking through the soot on her cheeks, and let out a sharp, frightened wail. But she was moving. She wasn't seriously hurt.
“I’m here, mommy. It hurts,” Emma cried softly.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Sarah sobbed, pulling the little girl tightly against her chest, checking her arms and legs.
“Over here! Check the drop-off!” a harsh voice echoed from the top of the ridge above them.
Footsteps crunched on the loose shale near the rim of the ravine. The cleanup crew was closing in.
A large, calloused hand suddenly gripped Sarah’s shoulder. She flinched, whipping around, but it was just Jax. He had a nasty gash across his forehead, blood trickling down into his graying beard, but his eyes were sharp and lucid. He still held the heavy sniper rifle in his right hand.
“Can she walk?” Jax whispered urgently, keeping his head low beneath the rocky ledge.
“Yes, I think so. Just scrapes,” Sarah breathed, adrenaline dulling the pain in her own body.
“Good. Move down the creek bed. Fifty yards that way, there’s an old maintenance culvert that runs beneath the highway. If we make it inside before they look down here, we lose our thermal signature,” Jax instructed, wiping blood from his eye with the back of his sleeve.
“And if they spot us crossing the open creek?” Sarah asked, horror creeping into her tone.
“Then we fight with what we have left,” Jax said, checking the magazine of his sidearm.
Up above, the beam of a tactical flashlight swept down the side of the ravine, cutting through the settling smoke just twenty feet from where they hid.
“Nothing down here except wreckage!” a voice shouted up to the commander.
“Check the culvert!” another voice barked in response.
Jax looked at Sarah, nodding toward the dark mouth of a concrete pipe fifty yards down the dry creek bed.
“Now!” Jax hissed.
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Sarah grabbed Emma’s hand, bent low, and sprinted through the dry river stones as heavy combat boots began sliding down the loose shale behind them.
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