Chapter 8 - The Highway Chase
The Harley leaped forward across the gravel like an unleashed missile. Headlights illuminated Clara’s wild eyes and streaming veil as the front tire smashed directly into the catering tent's metal support pole. The heavy canvas collapsed instantly over three armed Jackals, burying them in folding chairs, fabric, and chaos.
Hawk moved with blistering speed. He grabbed the duffel bag from the ground, vaulted onto the passenger seat behind Clara as she swung the bike around, and seized the handlebars over her shoulders. ""Hang on!"" he roared.
With a spray of dirt and stone, the motorcycle tore out of the driveway and onto the narrow two-lane highway winding through the mountain pass. Behind them, the roar of modified V8 engines erupted as three black pickup trucks gave chase, their high beams carving through the falling dusk.
""They have scoped rifles!"" Hawk yelled over the wind and the deafening rumble of the engine. ""Keep your head down against the tank!""
Clara pressed her chest flat against the motorcycle’s fuel tank, her fingers locking onto the cold metal frame. The wind whipped her hair across her face, stinging like needles. In the rearview mirror, she watched the lead truck surge forward, its steel guard grill inches from their rear fender.
A shot rang out, blowing out the left mirror into a shower of silver shards.
Hawk reached into his jacket, pulled a flare from an emergency clip, struck the cap with his thumb, and dropped the blinding red magnesium torch straight beneath the truck's front tires. The flare caught in the undercarriage, showering sparks into the fuel line. The truck swerved violently, tires screeching in agony, before rolling three times into the deep drainage ditch.
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""One down!"" Clara yelled, adrenaline surging through her veins.
""Don't celebrate yet!"" Hawk shouted back. ""We're heading for the old rail bridge. If they cut us off at the crossing, we're trapped against the river.""
