Chapter 6 - The Iron Ram
Elena moved like a ghost through the treeline, using the rhododendron hedges to mask her approach to the open service bay. The smell of diesel fuel and damp earth clung to the cool morning air. The maintenance crew was nowhere to be seen, likely dismissed by Julian’s orders earlier that morning to keep the grounds clear of witnesses.
The key was already in the ignition of the heavy Ford F-250 utility truck—the estate gardeners always left it ready for early morning clearing runs.
Elena climbed into the high cab, wincing as her cracked ribs scraped against the steering wheel. Her blood-soaked bare feet slipped slightly on the rubber pedals, but she jammed the heavy steel key forward. The eight-cylinder diesel engine roared to life with a ferocious, vibrating rumble that shook the garage.
Through the windshield, she saw Julian pause halfway to the helicopter stairs. He turned, his bloodied face twisting in disbelief as the high beams of the truck flashed on, blinding him in the grey mist. The two private contractors immediately unholstered their sidearms, stepping in front of Julian to form a defensive line.
""Hold on, Lily,"" Elena whispered through cracked lips, slamming the gear shift down into drive.
She floored the accelerator. The tires squealed against the slick asphalt of the service drive before catching traction, tearing up strips of pristine manicured turf as the three-ton truck surged forward across the open lawn.
Pop-pop-pop.
The security guards opened fire without hesitation. The heavy rounds starred the windshield, one spiderwebbing inches from Elena’s head, spraying microscopic glass dust into the cabin. Elena ducked low over the steering wheel, peering through the gap between the dashboard and the hood, keeping the pedal pinned to the floorboards.
Julian panicked. Seeing the massive steel bumper hurtling across the grass at forty miles per hour, he turned toward the helicopter boarding ramp, screaming orders that were swallowed by the deafening roar of the rotors. The mercenaries scrambled sideways to avoid being pulverized.
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Elena didn't aim for Julian. She aimed for the tail rotor assembly of the idling chopper.
At the final second, she threw the wheel hard to the right, bracing herself against the dashboard. The truck’s reinforced steel utility bed whipped around like an iron club, smashing into the tail boom of the helicopter with a bone-jarring metallic screech. The structural frame buckled, the tail rotor disintegrating into flying aluminum shrapnel that sheared through the wet grass, rendering the aircraft instantly useless.
