Chapter 15 - The Bridge at Midnight
"Hold on!" I shouted, slamming my foot down on the accelerator, but a massive freight truck could only move so fast against a pair of twin-turbocharged tactical interceptors closing in from behind.
Two black SUVs pulled out from our blind spots, one sliding aggressively into the lane beside us while the other tucked tightly against our rear bumper, its front grill slamming into our underride guard with a teeth-rattling *thud*.
"They're trying to force us off the span!" Miller yelled, bracing her feet against the dashboard and racking the slide of her Glock. "This bridge crosses the Ohio River gorge—it's a two-hundred-foot drop!"
I looked ahead. Through the foggy windshield, the steel lattice structure of the historic suspension bridge loomed out of the darkness like the ribcage of a massive prehistoric beast. The road narrowed drastically, flanked by stone guardrails that looked entirely incapable of stopping a forty-ton semi if things went sideways.
The SUV on our left swerved sharply, smashing its armored side panel directly into the driver-side door of the semi. The impact threw me violently against the steering wheel, my ribs taking the brunt of the blow. The screech of tortured steel filled the cabin as the smaller vehicle tried to pit-maneuver us toward the guardrail.
"Shoot them!" I screamed, wrestling with the heavy steering wheel to keep the truck from jackknifing.
Miller rolled down the remaining fragments of her window, leaned her upper body halfway out into the freezing wind, and emptied the remaining rounds of her magazine toward the tires of the SUV beside us.
*Pop-pop-pop-pop!*
The rear tire of the tactical SUV shredded instantly. The vehicle fishtailed violently, lost traction on the damp bridge deck, and smashed directly into the concrete bridge pylon in a brilliant explosion of orange sparks and shattered glass. It spun out of control, blocking the entire northbound lane behind us.
That left the second SUV clinging to our rear bumper.
"They're climbing the ladder!" Miller shouted, pulling back inside and frantically reloading her weapon with a fresh magazine. "They're trying to board the trailer!"
I glanced at the side mirror. Through the distorted glass, I saw a masked figure clad in black tactical gear leap from the hood of the trailing SUV onto the rear ladder of our cargo trailer, scrambling upward with terrifying agility.
"Not on my watch," I muttered.
I yanked the emergency air brake valve with my left hand while simultaneously downshifting hard. The semi’s rear brakes locked up instantly with a screech that deafened the night, throwing the heavy trailer into a violent, controlled slide across the wet asphalt.
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The sudden deceleration acted like a whip. The momentum launched the boarder off the back of the trailer like a stone from a slingshot. He flew through the air in a clumsy arc before disappearing over the side of the stone guardrail into the dark, churning waters of the Ohio River far below.
The second SUV, unable to stop in time, slammed hard into the rear of our trailer, its front end crumpling like paper as we finally cleared the far side of the bridge and dove into the winding, forested mountain roads of West Virginia.
