Chapter 9 - THE CREEK BED STANDOFF
-9-
The cold water of the mountain creek rushed over my sneakers as I pulled Eli deeper into the shadow of a fallen cedar log that spanned the ravine. My breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, each puff of air visible in the freezing morning mist.
Above us on the ridge path, the crunch of boots grew closer. A man’s voice—cool, clipped, and devoid of any human emotion—spoke through a tactical radio frequency that bled into the static of my prepaid phone in my pocket:
“Sector clear at the main structure. Target has utilized sub-level egress to the eastern drainage. Sweep the creek bed. Secure the child and the mother. Leave the old man in the cabin; he’s a non-entity once the drives are wiped.”
My blood turned to ice in my veins. They had left Richard behind in the cabin.
For one terrifying second, I wanted to scramble up the bank, scream, and throw myself at them to make sure my uncle was still breathing. But then I looked down at Eli, whose small body was trembling uncontrollably against my side, his big eyes looking up at me with absolute, unconditional trust.
I couldn't afford to be angry. I had to be smart.
I slipped my hand into my coat pocket, my fingers brushing against the heavy metal casing of the prepaid phone. The signal bars were fluctuating wildly down here in the ravine, but the emergency broadcast relay we had set up in the bunker fifty miles away was still echoing on a continuous loop through the regional telemetry grid.
I pulled the phone out, tapped the screen, and punched in a single pre-programmed command string that Richard had taught me during our nights in the bunker: TRIGGER LOCAL SURVEILLANCE OVERRIDE - PING COAST GUARD RELAY.
Nothing happened for three agonizing seconds. Then, from somewhere high above us on the coastal highway, the unmistakable sound of twin-engine rotor blades began to thrum against the morning air, growing louder and heavier with every passing second until the entire canyon vibrated like a plucked cello.
A Coast Guard Jayhawk helicopter swept over the ridge, its massive searchlight cutting through the canopy of Douglas firs and bathing the ravine in a blinding white glare.
On the ridge path above us, the Aegis operatives cursed loudly, their tactical comms squawking in confusion as the sudden arrival of federal air support blew their clandestine op wide open.
“Federal asset overhead! Disengage! Disengage!” a voice barked over their encrypted radio channel.
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The heavy crunch of boots reversed direction, scrambling back up the shale slope toward their parked SUV as the helicopter hovered directly over the cabin, lowering a rescue basket down toward the front porch.
I didn't wait. Scooping Eli up into my arms, I stood up from behind the log, sloshed across the freezing creek, and began climbing the opposite bank toward the safety of the highway where the coastal patrol cruiser was already flashing its red and blue lights through the trees.
