Chapter 11 - Fire in the Valley
Gabriel did not drop to the ground. Instead, he lunged directly sideways, intentionally drawing the operator's focus away from the boulder where the children were concealed.
""Run, Toby! Down the ridge!"" Gabriel shouted.
The guard fired twice. The high-velocity rounds tore through the birch bark inches above Gabriel’s head, showering his face with wooden shrapnel. Gabriel threw himself downhill, purposely triggering the logging cable. He caught the wire with his hand, vaulting over it cleanly, and rolled hard into the wet leaves on the other side.
The pursuing guard sprinted forward to cut him off, his eyes glued to Gabriel’s silhouette through his night-vision optic. The guard’s shin struck the taut steel cable at full sprint. The impact flipped the operator violently into the air; he landed face-first against a jagged outcrop of bedrock with a sickening crunch. His rifle flew from his grip, tumbling over the ledge into the darkness below.
Gabriel scrambled to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his bruised ribs, and threw himself onto the dazed guard. Before the man could recover his senses or reach for his sidearm, Gabriel drove his knee into the man’s sternum and ripped the tactical earpiece from his ear along with the heavy hunting knife sheathed on his tactical vest.
Gabriel pressed the blade against the man’s throat. ""How many teams are between here and the river?""
The guard coughed, blood bubbling at the corner of his split lip, but his eyes were filled with fanatical certainty. ""It doesn't matter, Vance. You're already dead. Look at your hand.""
Gabriel glanced down. His right hand was locked in a violent, spastic claw, the muscles rigid, completely unresponsive to his neural commands. The synthetic degradation Clara spoke of was accelerating under the physical trauma and adrenaline. The time he had left was evaporating in minutes, not months.
""Where is the extraction vehicle?"" Gabriel demanded, pressing the blade deeper until a bead of crimson welled on the guard's skin.
""Old... old logging depot,"" the man gasped. ""A helicopter is arriving at 0400. Clara has the override codes.""
Gabriel slammed the pommel of the heavy knife into the guard's temple, knocking him unconscious. He couldn't afford mercy, but he wouldn't commit murder in front of his children. He stripped the guard’s tactical jacket and threw it over his own shivering shoulders, then turned back toward the boulder.
Toby was already there, holding Lily by the waist, helping her down the steep incline. The boy hadn't run away; he had maneuvered around the fight, keeping his eyes on his father.
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""Dad,"" Toby whispered, his gaze dropping to Gabriel’s clawed, paralyzed right hand. ""It's happening, isn't it?""
Gabriel forced his fingers open against his thigh, wincing at the agonizing cramp that tore through his forearm. ""We keep moving. The river is half a mile down. If we reach the water, their thermal scopes can't track our heat signatures.""
