Chapter 13 - The Sacrifice
""Cellar access located! Rear pantry!"" a commanding voice shouted from the kitchen above. ""Team Two, stack on the breach! Non-lethal munitions authorized!""
Emily stepped backward toward the low, arched brick opening of the drainage tunnel at the far end of the cellar. Her carbine was raised toward the ruined ceiling, her breathing rapid and shallow. ""Mom, last chance. Give me the drive, or we all go down together.""
Clara didn't answer. She reached down, picked up the hard drive from the stone table, and slipped it into the deep front pocket of her knit cardigan. Then, she turned toward Maya.
""Maya, listen to Nana very carefully,"" Clara whispered, pulling a small silver key on a faded red string from inside her shirt collar. She pressed it into the girl's trembling palm. ""Behind the water heater, there’s an iron valve marked 'C-3'. It shuts off the propane line to the house generator. You turn that valve all the way to the right, and then you stay with your mother. Do you understand me?""
""Nana, what are you doing?"" Maya cried, clutching the cold metal key.
""Saving this family,"" Clara said softly, kissing Maya’s forehead.
Clara turned to Emily. Emily’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as Clara stepped away from Sarah and walked straight toward the drainage tunnel entrance. ""You want to run, Emily? You run. But you run empty-handed, or you face the marshals.""
""You’re insane, Mom,"" Emily hissed. ""You think you can negotiate with federal agents?""
""I’ve lived in this county for seventy-two years, Emily. The federal marshals don't run this valley. Sheriff Campbell does, and he’s standing right outside that front door with forty men who grew up in my Sunday school class."" Clara drew herself up to her full height, her grey hair wild, her apron stained with grease and her daughter’s blood, looking every bit like an ancient queen of the mountain soil. ""Now get in that tunnel before I hand you over myself.""
A heavy flash-bang canister clattered down through the trapdoor opening, bouncing across the dirt floor, spitting bright white sparks.
""Move!"" Emily yelled, diving headfirst into the narrow, muddy mouth of the drainage tunnel just as the flash-bang detonated with a bone-jarring CRACK.
Blinding light and a wall of concussive sound swept through the cellar. Clara turned her back to the blast, shielding her eyes against the stone wall. As the ringing in her ears began to subside, she heard the heavy clatter of tactical shields hitting the cellar floor. Four federal agents in full tactical armor dropped down through the hole, assault rifles leveled, their weapon-mounted lights cutting through the lingering smoke.
""Federal agents! Don't move!""
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Clara stood firmly in the center of the cellar, her hands raised high above her head, her face smeared with soot, completely blocking their view of the dark drainage pipe behind her.
""My daughter is dying over there,"" Clara said, her voice cutting through the smoke with chilling precision. ""Get a field medic down this hole right now, or the director of your field office will answer for murder.""
