Chapter 8 - The Ridge Road Ambush
The armored utility vehicle bounced violently over the unpaved surface of Ridge Road, its headlights cutting through the dense, swirling fog of the mountain pass. Thomas gripped the passenger-side grab handle as Maya forced the truck around a hairpin turn, gravel spraying wildly over the cliff edge. The wind howled against the reinforced windshield, carrying the bitter chill of high-altitude air.
"The relay station is two miles up this ridge," Maya shouted over the roar of the strained diesel engine. "If we can patch the encrypted drive into their long-range satellite dish, we can broadcast the Berlin logs to the Pentagon's independent inspector general before Vance's network blocks the transmission."
Thomas checked the map displayed on his tactical pad, his brow furrowing as he noticed a blinking red beacon tracking their coordinate position from behind.
"We've got company," Thomas warned, pointing at the screen. "A scout buggy just cleared the lower switchback. They're closing the distance fast, and they've got a heavy weapon mounted on the roll bar."
As if on cue, the sharp crack of a heavy-caliber machine gun echoed through the mountain pass. Bullets slammed into the rear armor of their utility vehicle with deafening metallic thuds, shattering the rearview mirror and showering the cab with glass splinters.
Maya stomped harder on the accelerator, pushing the engine past its redline as the truck fishtailed across the slick gravel road. "Hold on!" she yelled, spinning the steering wheel hard to throw off their pursuer's aim as another burst of gunfire chewed through the tailgate.
Thomas rolled down his window despite the freezing wind, unbuckling his safety harness and leaning out into the gale-force air. He braced his rifle against the frame of the door, waiting for the pursuing vehicle to crest the rise behind them. The scout buggy roared out of the fog, its mounted gunner silhouetted against the headlights, lining up a shot that would pierce their engine block.
Taking a slow, deliberate breath just like he did on the training mat, Thomas squeezed the trigger in a controlled three-round burst. The lead round struck the buggy's front tire, causing the vehicle to violently swerve off the edge of the narrow mountain road and disappear into the misty canyon below.
Thomas pulled himself back into the cab, slamming the window shut and panting heavily as the adrenaline rush began to fade, leaving his muscles shaking with fatigue.
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"Nice shot," Maya said grimly, keeping her eyes fixed on the winding road ahead. "But that was just the vanguard. The main gate at the relay station is coming up, and something tells me they aren't going to roll out the red carpet for us."
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