Chapter 5 - BLOOD ON THE BLACKWOOD TRAIL
The deafening silence that followed the breach lasted only a second before the firefight erupted anew.
Outside, the surrounding forest became a nightmare of muzzle flashes and suppressed gunfire. The three remaining Ares mercenaries outside realized their breaching team had been eliminated and opened fire on the ground floor of the Miller house, trying to pin down the SEALs inside.
"Vance! Secure the package!" Lieutenant Luke Harris barked over the deafening clatter of rounds penetrating the wooden walls.
Commander Vance grabbed Thomas Miller under his arm, hauling Leo’s dazed father toward the back hallway, while two SEALs—codenamed "Ghost" and "Sully"—took positions at the blown-out windows, returning sharp, disciplined double-taps into the dark treeline.
"Leo, you alright?" Luke asked, crouching down beside the boy. His face was smeared with dark camouflage paint, his eyes sharp and vigilant.
"I... I think so," Leo stammered, his heart hammering against his Kevlar vest like a trapped bird. "My dad..."
"Your dad is tough as nails, kid," Luke said, checking the satellite terminal on Thomas’s desk. The progress bar blinked green: UPLOAD COMPLETE. DATA RECEIVED BY NAVSOC. "The data's sent. The traitors inside OSI are being exposed as we speak. But right now, we have to move before Ares brings heavy ordnance in here."
"They've got a motorcade blocking the main gravel driveway," Commander Vance reported from the rear door, reloading his rifle with a slick, practiced flick of his wrist. "They knew we were coming. We’ve got at least two armored technicals pulling up Blackwood Road."
"Then we take the preserve," Thomas coughed, leaning against the wall as he wiped blood from his forehead. His vision was returning. "The Blackwood Ridge trail system. It’s four miles through dense forest before it hits the old timber highway. Vehicles can't follow."
"Is there cover?" Luke asked.
"Thick pine canopy and limestone ravines," Thomas replied, taking his handgun back from the desk. "I’ve hiked every inch of it with Leo."
"Then that's our extract route," Luke decided. "Ghost, set thermite charges on the terminal and the armory. Leave nothing for these scumbags."
Thirty seconds later, the SEALs, Thomas, and Leo slipped out through the cellar storm hatch into the damp night air. Behind them, a blinding thermite flare consumed the interior of the home, destroying all digital records and melting the steel armory into slag.
The forest was pitch black, illuminated only by the pale moonlight filtering through the dense pine needles. The air smelled of wet oak, pine resin, and gunsmoke. Leo ran in the center of the formation, flanked by Commander Vance and Luke, while Ghost and Sully covered their rear.
Despite his prosthetic leg, Luke moved through the rough terrain with astonishing speed and grace, his carbon-fiber limb crunching softly over the dry leaves.
"Keep your heads down," Luke whispered, tapping his earbud. "Ares is dropping thermal drones into the canopy."
Above them, the faint, high-pitched buzz of a quadcopter drone echoed through the night sky.
"In the ravine! Now!" Vance commanded quietly.
The group slid down a steep embankment into a dry limestone creek bed just as a thermal searchlight cut through the trees overhead, sweeping across the trail where they had been standing three seconds prior.
"They're tracking our heat signatures," Ghost muttered from the ridge above, his rifle fitted with a thermal optic. "I count six hostile shooters moving parallel to us on the upper ridge. They're trying to flank us before we reach the timber highway."
Thomas grabbed Leo’s shoulder, pulling him close under the shadow of a limestone overhang. "Leo, listen to me. If things go sideways—"
"No, Dad," Leo interrupted, his voice surprisingly firm despite the dirt on his cheeks. "We stick together. That's what you taught me."
Thomas looked at his son, seeing a fierce resolve in the boy's eyes that hadn't been there two days ago. He swallowed hard and nodded. "Together."
Suddenly, a red laser line painted the chest of Ghost’s tactical vest.
"CONTACT LEFT!" Ghost yelled, diving behind a boulder as a heavy salvo of automatic fire tore into the limestone ledge, sending rock splinters spraying like shrapnel.
The mercenaries hadn't just brought foot soldiers. Out of the darkness stepped a hulking figure wearing heavy, rifle-rated body armor—the commander of the Ares strike force, known only as "Vane." In his gloved hands, he held a heavy belt-fed machine gun, tearing through the trees with ruthless efficiency.
"Harris!" Vane’s voice boomed across the ravine through a loudspeaker mounted to his chest. "You're out of rounds and out of time! Hand over the boy and the hard drive, and I’ll let you die like a soldier!"
Luke looked at Vance, then at Thomas, and finally at Leo. A tight, dangerous smile touched the corner of his mouth.
"Vane!" Luke shouted back, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "You forgot one thing about Navy SEALs!"
"Yeah? What's that?" Vane laughed, racking his heavy weapon.
"We never come alone."
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From high above the tree canopy, the sky suddenly split open with the deafening, earth-shaking roar of twin rotor blades.
A massive MH-60 Black Hawk helicopter swooped down over Blackwood Ridge, its blinding spotlight illuminating the entire ravine in brilliant white light. Mounted on its side, a 7.62mm Dillon Aero Minigun whined to life, spinning at three thousand rounds per minute.
