Chapter 6: The Ambush
The rain began to fall in heavy, relentless sheets, masking the sound of our movements as my father and I slipped out the back door of the cabin. My mother stayed in the basement, monitoring their approach through the exterior cameras and whispering updates through our earpieces.
"They're advancing on foot," my mother’s voice crackled. "Three flanking the front porch. One circling around the back. He’s moving toward the generator."
"I'll take the three in front. Mia, you take the generator," my father ordered, his eyes locking onto mine in the darkness. "Do not hesitate. These men are here to erase us."
I nodded, gripping my weapon tightly, and moved silently through the wet underbrush. The generator was housed in a small wooden shed about fifty yards from the cabin. As I crept closer, I saw the silhouette of a man moving stealthily, a suppressed rifle raised to his shoulder.
He was planting a breaching charge on the shed's power lines to cut our lights.
I raised my gun, my heart hammering against my ribs. Breathe, I reminded myself, recalling my father's instructions. Squeeze, don't pull.
Before I could fire, the deafening roar of my father's shotgun echoed from the front of the cabin, followed instantly by screams and the rapid popping of return fire.
The man near the generator whipped around, startled by the noise. He saw me in the shadows and raised his rifle.
I didn't think. I fired twice.
The recoil pushed my hands up, but the shots were true. The man dropped hard into the mud, his weapon clattering against the stones. I stood there, panting, the smell of gunpowder mixing with the rain. I had just taken a life, or at least severely wounded a man. But I felt no guilt. Only a fierce, primal instinct to survive.
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"Back clear!" I shouted into my comms.
"Front is neutralized," my father replied, breathing heavily. "But we have a problem. The thermal sensors just picked up a secondary team. They used these four as bait."
