Chapter 5 - The Desert Chase
"Out the back window, now!" I hissed, grabbing both boys as Tessa shoved their backpacks over her shoulders.
The heavy iron hinges of the front door groaned as a crowbar was jammed into the frame. With a splintering crash, the deadbolt gave way.
We scrambled out through the narrow kitchen window just as heavy boots thudded onto the hardwood floor behind us. The cool desert air hit us instantly as we sprinted across the gravel backyard toward the rusted 1978 international Scout parked beneath a dilapidated metal carport.
"Get in! Get in the floorboards!" I ordered, shoving Tessa and the boys into the backseat and piling heavy wool blankets over them.
I jumped into the driver's seat, jammed the rusted key into the ignition, and pumped the gas. The old V8 engine coughed, sputtered, and then roared to life with a deafening exhaust note that shattered the desert silence.
As I threw the gearshift into reverse, flashlights beam-blasted through the kitchen window glass. Two men in tactical gear burst out the back door, shouting commands and drawing sidearms.
"Hold on!" I yelled.
I slammed the truck into drive, spinning the steering wheel hard to the left. The Scout’s rear tires kicked up a blinding storm of dust and gravel as we smashed right through the property's wooden wire fence, sending splintered posts flying in our wake.
Gunshots cracked through the night air. Pop. Pop.
A bullet pierced the tailgate with a hollow ping, making the boys scream in terror from beneath their blanket fort. Tessa twisted around, wrapping her arms completely around them to shield their small bodies.
I floored the accelerator, keeping the headlights off as I navigated the treacherous, unpaved desert tracks purely by memory. The old Scout bounced violently over washboard ruts and sagebrush, its suspension groaning in protest. Behind us, the two black SUVs crested the ridge, their high-beams cutting through the dust clouds like searchlights, hot on our trail.
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"Grant! They're gaining on us!" Tessa yelled over the deafening roar of the engine.
"Not for long," I gritted my teeth, aiming the truck toward the old copper mining trails—rough, jagged terrain where heavy modern SUVs would blow their transmissions to pieces.
