Chapter 13 - The Apex Ambush
"Get down!" Miller screamed, diving across the center console and shoving my head down toward the floorboards.
A second volley of high-velocity rounds punched through the driver-side door, tearing through the upholstery with a sound like tearing canvas. The smell of cordite and hot engine coolant filled the cramped cabin instantaneously. Through the shattered windshield, I saw two dark, tactical figures clad in matte-black body armor advancing rapidly from behind the idling semi-truck, their suppressed assault rifles tracking toward our position.
"They tracked the signal from the case!" I yelled over the ringing in my ears, scrambling backward into the footwell.
"No, they tracked *me*!" Miller cursed, pulling a Glock 19 from her shoulder holster with terrifying speed. She kicked open the passenger door, rolled onto the gravel, and fired three rapid shots toward the advancing figures. A heavy thud and a curse echoed from the darkness, indicating one of her rounds had found a target.
"Julian! Move!" she shouted, firing again.
I didn't hesitate. I kicked my door open, hit the wet gravel on my shoulder, and scrambled on hands and knees behind the concrete barrier of the rest stop perimeter. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The world had narrowed down to the sound of gunfire, the crunch of boots on gravel, and the burning smell of my ruined car.
"We need a vehicle!" Miller yelled, retreating backward while keeping her weapon trained on the shadows.
"The semi!" I pointed toward the massive freight truck whose driver had apparently fled at the first sound of gunfire.
We sprinted in a low crouch toward the cab of the semi. Bullets whined off the metal trailer, kicking up sparks that danced in the night air. Miller reached the cab first, hauled herself up, and smashed the side window with the butt of her Glock, clearing the remaining glass with a sweep of her heavy leather glove. She reached inside, unlocked the door, and swung it open.
"Get in! Drive!" she shoved me toward the driver's seat as she scrambled into the passenger side, slamming the heavy door shut and locking it.
I hauled myself up, my hands slick with sweat and adrenaline. I scanned the dashboard. The keys were still dangling from the ignition. I twisted them hard. The massive diesel engine roared to life with a bone-shaking rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.
"Hold on!" I roared, slamming the shifter into first gear and dumping the clutch.
The semi lurched forward with catastrophic force, its dual rear wheels spinning on the gravel before biting into the asphalt. Ahead of us, a black tactical SUV tried to block the exit ramp, its headlights blinding us in the gloom. I didn't slow down. I slammed my foot flat onto the floorboards, leaning heavily on the air horn.
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The freight truck plowed directly into the side of the SUV, crushing the smaller vehicle's front quarter-panel like a soda can and sending it skidding sideways across the median.
We burst onto the interstate, the wind howling through the shattered passenger window as we accelerated south into the dark night.
