Chapter 7 - Blizzard RunThe night air hit them like a wall of ice as they sprinted from the back porch into the blinding swirl of snow. The wind whipped their clothes, making every step treacherous as they crossed the clearing toward the weathered wooden shed half-buried in snowdrifts.
Orion carried his father strapped securely to a makeshift wooden sled they had rigged from an old tabletop, pulling it behind him with brute physical force. Caesar flanked their left side, acting as a living shield against the freezing wind, his golden eyes scanning the dark treeline.
Ren took the rear, her MP5 raised, her finger resting lightly on the trigger. Her breath came out in ragged white clouds, but her focus remained absolute.
Crack!
A high-velocity bullet whipped past Ren's ear, burying itself deep into the pine shed door with a sharp thud.
"Sniper in the watchtower!" Ren yelled, dropping instantly into a low crouch and returning fire with a controlled three-round burst toward the upper ridges.
Rat-tat-tat!
A muffled cry echoed from the upper tree line. A dark figure tumbled from the frozen pine branches, crashing heavily into the snow forty feet below.
"Keep moving!" Orion shouted, throwing his entire weight against the frozen wooden doors of the snowcat shed.
The rusty iron latch resisted. Orion slammed his shoulder against the door once, twice—with a sickening screech of protesting timber, the lock gave way, and the doors flew open.
Inside, bathed in the faint blue glow of moonlight breaking through the storm clouds, sat the heavy-tracked snowcat—a mechanical beast coated in dust and cobwebs, but alive with potential.
"Get him inside!" Ren ordered, covering the open doorway as Orion hastily dragged the sled carrying his father into the cramped cabin of the vehicle.
Orion scrambled into the driver's seat, his hands flying across the cold dashboard. He flipped the master ignition switch, but the diesel engine only let out a pathetic, sputtering cough before dying.
"Damn it!" Orion slammed his fist against the steering column. "The fuel lines are frozen!"
"Move!" Ren shoved past him into the driver's seat, her medical training instantly pivoting to mechanical diagnostics. She popped the dashboard paneling with a multi-tool from her belt, located the manual fuel priming pump, and began pumping it furiously while turning the ignition key with her left hand.
Cough... chug... chug... ROAR!
The heavy diesel engine came to life with a thunderous, earth-shaking roar, filling the small shed with thick exhaust fumes and vibrating heat.
Outside, the remaining three operatives rounded the corner of the shed, automatic rifles raised, shouting in fury.
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"Stop right there—!"
Ren didn't hesitate. She slammed the transmission into reverse, released the brake, and stepped hard on the accelerator.
