Chapter 9 - The First Strike
"Briggs!" I screamed across the rain-swept lot, raising Miller’s Glock with both trembling hands.
The giant turned his head.
In that split second, I didn't fire at his chest. I fired at the fuel tank of the abandoned maintenance truck parked three feet behind him.
The heavy 9mm round sparked violently against the exposed steel filler neck. The fuel vapor didn't detonate, but the deafening ricochet and the spray of sparks caused Briggs to flinch, stumbling away from the sedan’s glass.
I didn't stop running. My bare feet slapped against the ice-cold puddle water, my lungs burning as if filled with broken glass.
Briggs recovered, his face twisting into a snarl. He dropped the tire iron and reached into his coat for his own sidearm.
I fired a second shot. The bullet caught him in the meat of his right thigh.
He howled, collapsing onto one knee.
I reached the driver’s side of Miller’s car, ripped the door open, and hit the central unlock switch.
"Mommy!" Maisie cried, throwing her arms around my waist from the back seat.
"Get down, Maisie! On the floor, right now!"
I shoved her down into the footwell, threw myself into the driver's seat, and slammed the door. The keys were still hanging from the ignition where Miller had left them.
I turned the key. The engine roared to life.
Behind us, the heavy steel door of the loading dock flew open. Grant stepped out into the rain.
He saw Briggs down on the asphalt. He saw me in the driver’s seat.
He didn't run. He didn't panic.
He raised his weapon with both hands, taking deliberate, military-grade aim through the windshield.
I threw the transmission into drive, stomped the accelerator to the floor, and spun the wheel directly toward him.
The sedan’s tires screamed, smoke boiling off the wet rubber as two tons of steel surged forward.
Grant’s eyes widened. He fired three rounds through the windshield—the glass shattered into a spiderweb of white fractures, the slugs punching through the headrest inches from my ear.
He dived out of the way at the very last second.
The bumper clipped his shoulder, sending him spinning through the air into a stack of wooden pallets.
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I didn't look back. I smashed through the chain-link security gate, the metal screaming as it tore away, and launched the car onto the open highway.
***
