Chapter 8 - The Fire and the Fury
I stared at the deadly incendiary grenade for exactly one terrifying second.
I knew I had less than three seconds before it detonated and turned the entire cabin into a massive fireball.
I lunged forcefully across the room, grabbed a heavy cast-iron skillet from the kitchen counter, and scooped the grenade up.
I violently hurled the skillet and the grenade straight through the shattered front window.
The explosive detonated mid-air outside, sending a massive wave of blistering heat and bright orange flames washing over the porch.
The mercenaries screamed as the unexpected blast caught two of them completely off guard.
I used the chaotic distraction to aggressively push my tactical advantage.
I sprinted toward the back of the cabin, firing my sidearm precisely through the wooden walls where I knew they were standing.
I heard two heavy bodies collapse onto the dirt outside.
"Burn the whole place down!" the leader shouted angrily from the safety of the tree line.
"Do not let her escape with that hard drive!"
I knew they were going to surround the cabin and completely trap me inside the burning structure.
I ran back to the fireplace and pulled the heavy oak floorboard up again.
"Sloane, we have to move right now," I yelled over the deafening roar of the flames.
Sloane climbed out of the crawlspace, coughing heavily as thick black smoke filled the living room.
"The back door is completely blocked by fire," she panicked.
"We are not using the doors," I told her.
My father had designed this cabin, and he never built anything without a secret emergency exit.
I rushed to the heavy oak bookcase built into the far wall and pulled a hidden lever disguised as a wooden peg.
The entire bookcase swung silently outward, revealing a dark, narrow earthen tunnel dug directly into the mountainside.
"Go!" I shoved Sloane into the tunnel and followed right behind her.
I pulled the bookcase shut just as the living room roof violently collapsed in a shower of brilliant sparks.
We crawled frantically through the damp, cold dirt for what felt like an absolute eternity.
The tunnel finally opened up behind a thick patch of thorny bushes about a hundred yards away from the burning cabin.
We lay in the snow, gasping for fresh air, and watched the unmarked mercenaries aggressively searching the blazing ruins.
"They think we burned to death," Sloane whispered, shivering in the freezing wind.
"Good," I replied, checking the heavy encrypted hard drive in my bag.
"That gives us exactly enough time to find out why my father really stole these files."
I pulled out my secure satellite phone and dialed a classified number I had only memorized in case of absolute emergencies.
The line clicked, and a heavily distorted voice answered.
"Protocol Citadel is active," the voice stated.
"Who is this?" I demanded.
"I am the man who helped your father hide," the voice replied.
"And if you want to stay alive, you need to bring that drive to Washington D.C. immediately."
"Why should I trust you?" I asked suspiciously.
May you like
"Because your father didn't steal those blueprints to sell them," the man revealed.
"He stole them because he discovered a fatal flaw in the bunker's design, and the government was trying to murder him to cover it up."
