Chapter 12 - Fire in the Pines
The impact shattered the windshield into a crystalline web. The sedan came to a halt wedged between two massive hemlocks, steam hissing violently from the crushed radiator. Mark groaned, blood dripping from a cut along his temple, but the seatbelt had held.
Beside him, Miller was slumped over the deflated airbag, breathing heavily, an arm clearly fractured.
""Miller, wake up!"" Mark urged, unbuckling himself and reaching across to check the detective's pulse.
Miller groaned, his eyes fluttering open. ""Go... Mark. Take my service weapon from the glove box... get to the rail depot three miles west. I'll hold them here.""
Through the cracked rear window, Mark saw the armored SUV pulling over on the shoulder above. Flashlights clicked on; three men in tactical gear began descending the steep embankment, their weapons drawn.
""I’m not leaving you,"" Mark whispered.
May you like
""You have to,"" Miller hissed, shoving the loaded .38 revolver and a badge into Mark’s hands. ""If that drive doesn't reach the U.S. Attorney, Elena died for nothing. Thomas died for nothing. Move!""
Mark gritted his teeth, forced the passenger door open, and tumbled into the muddy ferns. Keeping low beneath the canopy of trees, he vanished into the dark, silent forest just as gunfire erupted behind him, illuminating the pines in brief, terrifying strobes.
