Chapter 6 - The Bridge of Echoes
The sharp, supersonic snap of 5.56 rounds tore through the weeping willow branches above our heads, sending a cascade of severed leaves and shredded bark raining down onto the muddy embankment.
“Keep moving! Do not stop for anything!” Sarah Sterling yelled over the roar of the perimeter sirens.
She yanked me forward, her grip iron-tight around my wrist as we scrambled beneath the concrete underpass of the interstate bridge. The darkness beneath the massive structure provided instant relief from the blinding glare of the base floodlights, but the damp, echoing concrete amplified the sound of our pursuers closing the gap behind us.
Heavy combat boots thudded against the gravel above. Shouts echoed from the top of the embankment.
“They’re flanking the drainage canal!” a harsh voice barked through a megaphone. “Flush them out toward the water treatment plant!”
Sarah didn't hesitate. She shoved me behind a massive stone pillar supporting the bridge's central span, whipped out her silenced pistol, and fired two rapid, calculated shots into the air-vent housing of the base’s automated surveillance grid. A shower of blue sparks erupted overhead, followed instantly by the satisfying blackout of three major perimeter floodlights.
“They’re blind in this sector for about forty seconds,” Sarah panted, dropping down beside me in the mud. She grabbed my shoulders, her green eyes piercing through the gloom. “Ruby, listen to me very carefully. You have the flash drive General Graves gave you?”
I nodded frantically, my hand instinctively pressing against the cold metal casing of the USB drive tucked safely inside the inner pocket of my oversized jacket.
“Good,” Sarah continued, her voice urgent and steady. “Marcus Vance thinks he wiped the sub-level terminals, but he only deleted the decoy files. The drive in your pocket contains the true ledger—every shell company, every illegal weapons shipment, and every name involved in your father’s disappearance twelve years ago.”
“You said my father is alive,” I whispered, my voice trembling as the sound of boots grew closer. “You said he sent you.”
Sarah hesitated for a fraction of a second, a flicker of deep emotional conflict crossing her face before she locked her jaw. “He is alive, Ruby. But if we don't get this drive to the federal prosecutor’s office in Atlanta before sunrise, neither of us will live long enough to see him.”
Before I could ask another question, a heavy beam of a tactical flashlight swept across the concrete floor just ten feet away from our hiding spot.
“Clear this section!” a gruff voice shouted. “Check behind the pylons!”
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Sarah raised her pistol, taking a silent breath, but before she could pull the trigger, a dark, heavy figure dropped silently from the overhead scaffolding directly behind the searching mercenary, wrapping a thick cord around his neck with a brutal, silent snap.
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