Chapter 10: Highway Ambush
We reached the old dirt road three miles west of the main estate gates, where an unmarked utility van Miller had arranged for us was waiting behind a thick stand of cedar trees. The vehicle's engine was already idling quietly, pumping faint plumes of white exhaust into the freezing air. I hurried Elena and Lily into the back seats, making sure they were tucked low behind the reinforced steel bulkhead. Atlas hopped in right behind them, filling the back cabin with his calm, steady presence. I took the driver's seat, threw the gear into four-wheel drive, and cut the headlights until we bounced out onto the unpaved shoulder of Route 9.
For the first ten minutes, the only sound inside the cab was the steady hum of the heater and Lily's quiet breathing as she stroked Atlas's broad head. But tension never truly left my shoulders. I kept my eyes glued to the rearview mirror, watching for any sign of tail lights cutting through the darkness behind us.
It happened just as we crested the rise near the old county line bridge. Two unmarked black SUVs whipped out from a logging trail with their high beams suddenly blazing, blinding me in the side mirrors and accelerating rapidly to box us in.
"Hold on!" I shouted, slamming my foot down on the accelerator and wrenching the steering wheel hard to the left as a heavy bumper slammed violently against our rear quarter panel. The van fishtailed on the gravel, screeching wildly before regaining traction.
"Arthur!" Elena cried out from the back, pulling Lily tightly into her chest while the child remained remarkably silent, staring up at Atlas with wide, unblinking eyes.
The vehicle on our left tried to pit-maneuver us, its front fender grinding against our driver's side door with a sickening screech of twisting metal. I fought the wheel with everything I had, my knuckles turning white. Through the side window, I caught a brief glimpse of a masked driver leaning over to push us off the narrow road and down the steep ravine toward the rocky creek bed below.
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"Atlas," I yelled over the roar of the engines.
The massive dog didn't hesitate. At the sound of my voice, Atlas pushed his way into the front cabin, planted his massive paws against the passenger door, and let out a ferocious, window-shaking bark that vibrated through the metal chassis. The sudden aggression startled the driver of the attacking SUV just enough for him to overcorrect. Their vehicle swerved, clipped a granite milestone, and spun completely out into the opposite ditch. We surged ahead into the safety of the dark highway tunnel, leaving our pursuers far behind in the dust.
