Chapter 26 - The Chasm of Ice
A deafening roar split the night, echoing off the limestone cliffs like a rolling thunderclap that shook the very foundations of the earth.
The entire suspension bridge—a massive span of reinforced steel and timber spanning the dizzying, mist-choked canyon between the lodge’s bluff and the state highway—erupted into a staggering wall of white-hot fire. Twisted girders groaned, shrieked, and sheared apart in slow motion, tumbling downward into the black, churning abyss of the ravine below, taking the leading tactical vans and half a platoon of Gabriel’s elite mercenaries with them in a catastrophic avalanche of molten metal and stone.
The shockwave swept back up the cliff face, nearly knocking Vincent off his boots. He lowered the smoking detonator, his chest heaving as the intense heat washed over his face, drying the rain and soot on his skin.
Across the yawning, newly created chasm, through the billowing clouds of black smoke and falling debris, a solitary figure stood at the very edge of the broken asphalt. Even across the fifty-foot gap of empty air, Vincent could see the grotesque, melted contours of the ceramic mask—or what was left of it—clutching a tactical radio.
Gabriel’s voice didn't need the PA system this time; it carried across the canyon on the screaming wind, warped and triumphant. "Magnificent, little brother! You always did have a flair for dramatic exits! But you forgot one tiny detail!"
Vincent raised his Kimber, tracking the silhouette through the smoke, but he held his fire. "You're out of men, Gabriel. The bridge is gone. You're trapped."
A wet, hacking laugh echoed from across the chasm. "Trapped? Vince, I’m not the one trapped on a dying rock. Look down at your phone!"
Vincent’s brow furrowed. Slowly, deliberately, keeping his eyes locked on his brother’s shadow, he reached into his inner suit pocket and withdrew the encrypted satellite terminal. The screen was illuminated by a single, pulsing red indicator light.
*SIGNAL DETECTED: EASTERN DRAINAGE TRAIL.*
*GPS BEACON: ACTIVE.*
Vincent’s blood ran colder than the waters of Lake Michigan.
"That's right, Vince," Gabriel shouted, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. "You thought the North Side syndicate was all I had on the payroll? While you were busy blowing up my welcoming committee at the front gate, my secondary team took the long way around through the old logging tracks. They're waiting at the boat slip right now. Say goodbye to your new family for me!"
Before the last word had finished echoing off the canyon walls, the sound of a muffled, high-caliber gunshot cracked through the forest down by the lake, followed instantly by the shattering of glass and the sharp, desperate whine of a boat engine failing to turn over.
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Vincent didn't hesitate. He turned his back on his laughing brother across the chasm, broke into a dead sprint across the timber veranda, and threw himself headfirst down the steep, treacherous stone steps leading into the freezing darkness of the ravine.
***
