Chapter 12 - The Breach
The private jet’s engines shrieked as they transitioned from idle to full takeoff thrust, the fuselage vibrating so violently that loose gravel danced across the wet tarmac. The aircraft began to roll slowly down the runway, its navigation lights blinking a mocking red and green against the impenetrable sheets of rain.
“Now! Move!” Arthur yelled, springing from behind the fuel truck and laying down suppressive fire toward the treeline to keep the sniper pinned while sprinting directly toward the accelerating aircraft.
Marcus stayed behind, applying pressure to his bleeding shoulder while tracking Arthur and Clara with fierce, desperate hope.
Clara ran with a primal, desperate speed that defied the agonizing pain in her bare feet. The wind from the jet’s exhaust tore at her ruined wedding dress, whipping the white silk around her legs like a shroud. As the aircraft gathered speed, the emergency metal ladder at the tail hatch—which had failed to retract fully due to a hydraulic glitch—dragged along the ground only six feet off the pavement.
Arthur leaped into the air, his fingers catching the bottom rung of the metal ladder, his body swinging violently in the slipstream as the plane accelerated down the strip.
“Clara! Grab my belt!” Arthur bellowed over the roar of the turbines.
Clara didn't hesitate. She threw herself forward, launching her body into the air and catching Arthur’s thick leather belt with both hands just as the aircraft’s landing gear left the ground. The sudden upward jerk nearly tore her arms from their sockets, but she clenched her teeth, wrapping her legs around Arthur’s waist as they both dangled precariously beneath the ascending fuselage.
Inside the cramped cargo hold accessed by the half-open hatch, the burly pilot looked down in absolute shock as two figures hauled themselves up into the aircraft like drowning sailors boarding a raft.
Before the man could draw his sidearm, Clara swung her right foot forward with the fury of a mother fighting for her child’s life, catching him square in the chest and sending him crashing backward into the control console.
Arthur lunged forward, slamming the man’s head against the steel bulkhead and rendering him unconscious in a single, fluid motion.
May you like
Clara didn't stop to catch her breath. She scrambled past the cockpit partition and threw open the cabin door leading to the main passenger compartment, her heart pounding against her ribs like a sledgehammer.
---
