Chapter 12 - The Iron Net
Two shadows crossed the dusty glass of the front window. Hawk drew his semi-automatic pistol, gesturing for Clara to drop beneath the table. The intruders moved with tactical precision, not the chaotic swagger of common gang members. These were professional mercenaries, dressed in unmarked black tactical gear and carrying suppressed carbines. Silas had spent heavily to ensure silence.
A flashbang grenade crashed through the front glass, blinding the cabin in a brilliant, deafening burst of white fury.
Clara covered her ears, screaming against the high-pitched ringing that paralyzed her senses. Through the smoke, she saw Hawk fire two controlled shots, dropping the first operator in the doorway. But the second mercenary tackled Hawk into the cedar table, splintering the aged wood into matchsticks.
Hawk fought like a trapped bear, using his elbows and knees to break the attacker's grip, but a third man appeared at the broken window, leveling a rifle directly at Hawk's exposed spine.
Without thinking, Clara grabbed the heavy cast-iron skillet from the cold woodstove and swung it with all her strength against the third man's helmet. The dull, ringing impact knocked the rifle offline just as the weapon discharged, chewing the timber roof to shreds.
Hawk drove his combat knife into the plate seam of his attacker, shoving the limp body aside. He scrambled up, blood pouring from a split above his brow, and grabbed Clara’s arm. ""Out the window! Now!""
They tumbled through the shattered frame into the freezing morning air, sprinting down the rocky ravine toward the rail bed below. Behind them, automatic gunfire tore through the pine needles, kicking up dirt around their heels.
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A hundred yards ahead, the whistle of Freight Train 402 echoed through the gorge, its massive diesel engine grinding along the iron tracks.
""Jump!"" Hawk shouted as the train's rusted iron cars rolled past.
