Chapter 5 - The Expressway Ambush
"Frank!" Hannah shouted, pointing at the side mirror.
Frank glanced up, his eyes widening as a grey commercial delivery van accelerated through the storm, pulling flush with their rear bumper.
"Hold on!" Frank barked, slamming his foot down on the accelerator.
The twin-turbo V8 engine under the SUV's hood roared to life, propelling the heavy armored vehicle forward into the sheets of rain. But the delivery van matched their speed, its high beams blinding in the dark night.
Maximus instantly stood up on the rear seat, his dark fur rising along his spine, a deep, terrifying bark echoing inside the cabin.
BANG.
A heavy metallic impact rattled the rear frame as the van rammed their back bumper.
"They aren't trying to shoot us!" Frank yelled, fighting the steering wheel as the SUV skidded slightly on the wet asphalt. "They’re trying to force us off the bridge!"
Ahead lay the Des Plaines River bridge—a narrow, two-lane concrete span with a steep drop into black, swollen river water below.
On her phone, Aleandro’s voice remained steady, unaffected by the chaos. "Frank. Report."
"We’ve got a grey Ford transit van on our tail, boss!" Frank shouted into the dash speaker. "We’re hit on the rear quarter panel!"
"I’m sending two tactical teams to your grid coordinates right now," Aleandro commanded. "Do not stop the car. Use the vehicle's weight."
"They're pushing us into the guardrail!" Frank grunted, leaning into a sharp right turn as the van side-swiped them with a horrifying screech of tearing metal and flying sparks.
Hannah gripped the seat handle with one hand and held Maximus’s collar with the other. The heavy armored SUV shuddered under the impact, its ballistic glass spiderwebbing along the rear passenger window, but holding firm.
"Hannah," Aleandro’s voice came through the speaker, cold and precise. "Under the center armrest in the back. Pull the red toggle."
Hannah lunged forward, pressing her thumb against the leather console latch. Inside lay a compact panel with three covered switches. She flipped the red cover and slammed her palm onto the toggle beneath it.
Behind the rear wheels, two high-pressure steel canisters deployed, dumping four hundred sharp, triangular steel caltrops directly onto the wet highway pavement.
The delivery van’s front tires exploded simultaneously with a pair of loud, gunshot-like pops. The van swerved wildly across the two lanes, hit the concrete barrier at seventy miles an hour, flipped onto its side, and slid three hundred feet through the rain in a blinding shower of sparks before coming to a dead stop against the bridge abutment.
Frank brought the armored SUV to a smooth stop two hundred yards further down the road.
The highway was dead silent now, save for the patter of rain against the roof and the heavy breathing of the three passengers inside.
Frank pulled a heavy semi-automatic handgun from beneath his dash, clicking his door open. "Stay in the car, Miss Collins."
"Frank, wait!" Hannah called out.
Through the rain, three figures in black tactical gear crawled out of the shattered windshield of the overturned van. They didn't flee into the dark woods beside the river.
They pulled automatic submachine guns from the wreckage and aimed them straight at the stalled SUV.
Before Frank could raise his pistol, the dark side doors of a second vehicle—a high-powered black Dodge Charger that had pulled up silently behind them—swung open.
Aleandro Vitali stepped out into the pouring rain.
He wore no jacket, only his dark trousers and a rain-soaked white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves. In his right hand, he held a long, black suppressed rifle.
He didn't take cover. He didn't shout a warning.
Three sharp, quiet thwip-thwip-thwip sounds cut through the noise of the falling storm.
Fifty yards away, all three tactical attackers dropped instantly into the wet asphalt, motionless.
Aleandro lowered the rifle, wiped a drop of rainwater from his eye, and walked calmly toward Hannah’s side of the SUV. He opened the rear door, looking down at her with an expression that held neither fear nor excitement—only an absolute, terrifying sense of resolution.
"Are you hurt?" he asked softly.
Hannah looked at him, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. "I'm fine. But... my daughter, Aleandro. Please."
Aleandro turned to the tactical team spilling out of the Dodge behind him. "Secure the perimeter. Take one survivor if he’s breathing. If not, burn the van."
May you like
He stepped into the rear seat beside Hannah, pulling the door shut against the cold storm. Maximus immediately rested his large head against Aleandro’s leg, giving his hand a single, damp lick.
"We go to Oak Park now," Aleandro said to Frank. "And then we find out who gave them your route."
