Chapter 5 - The Plunge
The blinding beam of the helicopter spotlight trapped us in a circle of artificial daylight. The deafening chop of the rotor blades drowned out the sound of our small boat engine. Vincent grabbed the steering wheel and violently jerked it to the left. A barrage of heavy machine-gun fire tore through the water exactly where we had just been. "Hold on!" Vincent screamed. He pushed the throttle to the absolute maximum. The small boat skipped violently over the icy waves. I wrapped both of my arms completely around Noah, burying his face into my chest. Wood and fiberglass splintered around us as bullets chewed into the hull. "We aren't going to outrun them!" I yelled in sheer panic. Vincent looked toward the looming structure of the city’s main suspension bridge ahead of us. "We don't have to outrun them," Vincent said with grim determination. He aimed the boat directly toward the massive concrete pillars of the bridge. "Take a deep breath and do not let go of him!" Vincent ordered me. I realized what he was about to do just a second before it happened. Vincent pulled out his gun and shot the boat's fuel line. "Jump!" he roared. I threw myself over the side of the boat, clutching Noah tightly against my body. We hit the freezing, pitch-black water. The shock of the cold instantly stole the breath from my lungs. A fraction of a second later, the boat crashed into the concrete pillar and exploded in a massive fireball. The heat washed over the surface of the water, protecting us from the helicopter's thermal cameras. I kicked my legs furiously, fighting the strong river current. Vincent grabbed my coat collar from behind and dragged us toward the muddy riverbank. We collapsed onto the freezing mud, coughing up murky river water. The helicopter hovered over the burning wreckage for a few minutes before turning back toward the city. They thought we were dead. Vincent rolled onto his back, gasping for air. I checked Noah, relieved to find him breathing, though his lips were turning blue from the cold. "We need to get him warm immediately, or he'll die of hypothermia," I warned Vincent. Vincent nodded and pointed to a faint light shining through the dense trees. "There is an old hunting cabin up that ridge," Vincent panted. We trudged through the deep snow, shivering violently. When we finally reached the cabin door, Vincent kicked it open. Inside, a man in a police uniform was sitting by a warm fire, calmly sipping coffee. He smiled at us and slowly raised his service weapon. "Chief Miller?" Vincent asked in complete disbelief. "Sorry, Vincent," the police chief said softly. "Carlo pays a lot better than you do," the chief added, pulling the trigger.
