Chapter 7 - Whispers in the Palm Trees
The glow of the computer monitor cast long, jagged shadows across the rustic wooden walls of the cabin. Emily, having fallen into an exhausted sleep on the old sofa with baby Liam resting safely beside her, stirred slightly as the wind howled through the pine trees outside. David stood motionless by the window, peering through the slats of the blinds into the pitch-black wilderness. The forest was too quiet. No crickets, no rustling night birds—just the unmistakable crunch of heavy combat boots on dry gravel moving up the incline. They had found them faster than calculated. David checked the magazine of his suppressed 9mm pistol, the metallic click sounding deafeningly loud in the confined space. He moved quietly across the room, placing a protective hand on Emily’s shoulder as she woke up with a start.
“Dad? What’s happening?” she asked, her voice trembling.
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“Stay under the floorboards, Em. Don't make a sound, no matter what you hear,” David whispered fiercely, lifting a heavy rug to reveal the emergency cellar hatch.
As Emily scrambled down into the dark crawlspace with the baby, the front door of the cabin exploded inward in a shower of splinters and blinding flashbang grenades.
