Chapter 12 - The Frostbite GambitThe Frostbite Gambit
The world exploded into absolute chaos. The blinding cloud of liquid nitrogen vapor dropped the temperature in the vault to a freezing sub-zero in less than a second, the moisture in the air instantly solidifying into a thick layer of frost across every surface.
The guards in the white hazard suits scrambled blindly, their reflective visors instantly fogging over from the sudden, intense condensation, rendering them completely blind inside their own suits. One of them fired his pneumatic containment rifle wildly into the fog, the sharp THWIP of the dart embedding itself into the reinforced concrete wall inches above my head.
"Elena, run!" Daniel’s voice roared through the blinding white mist.
I didn't need to be told twice. I dropped low, using the edge of the crowbar I had kept hidden down the leg of my dark trousers, and swung it with all my might toward the shifting shadow of the guard nearest the doorway. The heavy iron bar struck the side of his knee with a sickening, plastic crunch, sending him crashing to the floor as his pneumatic rifle clattered away into the darkness.
Daniel grabbed my arm, hauling me out of the freezing vault and back through the sliding steel doors just as the automated fire-suppression alarms began to wail throughout the sub-basement—a deafening, klaxon horn that triggered the dropping of heavy, blast-resistant security shutters across the corridor.
Arthur’s voice was screaming from inside the fog, a frantic, unhinged screech of absolute desperation. "The data! The localized mirror is fracturing! Secure the terminal! Secure the terminal!"
We ran through the shifting shadows of the sub-basement, the heavy iron shutters crashing down behind us like falling guillotines. We scrambled back into the old drainage culvert, our hands sliding against the slick, freezing concrete tube as we fled back toward the forest.
When we emerged into the cold gray drizzle of the upstate New York night, my lungs were burning, my body shaking from the intense adrenaline surge. We didn't look back at the mansion. We ran through the dense brush until we reached the overgrown ravine where the old Dodge Ram truck was hidden. Daniel threw himself into the driver's seat, forcing the manual key into the ignition and slamming his foot onto the starter. The old mechanical diesel engine roared to life with a comforting, loud vibration that cut through the wailing sirens of the estate behind us.
"Did it work, Daniel?" I gasped, my hands locked onto the dashboard as he slammed the truck into gear and roared off the curb just as two black, high-powered SUVs tore into the plaza from the opposite direction, their high-intensity LED high-beams blinding our rearview mirrors.
"We can't outrun them on the open highway, Daniel!" I screamed, watching the black SUVs gain ground with terrifying speed, their modern engines shifting gears with a smooth, computerized precision that our old truck couldn't match. "They’ll box us in before we hit the county line!"
"I'm not heading for the highway, Elena," Daniel said, his knuckles white as he spun the heavy steering wheel, sending the truck sliding sideways down a narrow, unlit gravel road that wound deep into the historic Hudson River historic district—a region marked by massive, abandoned industrial brick factories and long-forgotten shipping wharves.
The black SUVs followed us with relentless precision, their searchlights cutting through the driving rain like lasers. The lead vehicle pulled up alongside our rear bumper, its heavy bull-bar slamming into our tailgate with a violent shock that nearly sent the truck spinning into the deep drainage ditches bordering the road.
"Daniel, they’re going to pit-maneuver us!" I cried, looking out the side window at the tinted glass of the SUV less than three feet away.
Suddenly, a massive, deafening BOOM echoed through the torrential rain. The front windshield of the leading black SUV instantly shattered into a spiderweb of white fractures as a high-velocity, heavy-caliber rifle bullet punched directly through the engine block, sending a massive column of fire and black smoke erupting from beneath its hood. The vehicle veered violently off the road, flipping over twice before crashing into a row of ancient oak trees in a massive explosion of sparks.
I looked back in absolute, paralyzed shock. Through the sheets of driving rain, a massive, blacked-out armored tactical truck tore out from the shadow of an abandoned brick warehouse ahead of us, its roof-mounted searchlights flaring to life with a brilliant, electric blue intensity.
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Through the PA system of the armored vehicle, a loud, gravelly, beautifully familiar voice boomed across the river district: "Daniel! Elena! Get behind the line! The Gila River Ranger division just re-enforced the sector!"
Thomas had come east.
