Chapter 7 - The Final Stand on Pine Crest
The wind shrieked past Daniel’s ears as the snowmobile clocked seventy miles per hour across the flat, mirror-like ice of the lake.
Behind him, Mara held onto his waist with a death grip, her face buried against his back, keeping Jamie completely shielded between their bodies.
Daniel checked his side mirror.
The two pursuers were thirty yards behind them, closing the distance slowly on lighter, faster machines. One of the riders raised a submachine gun, aiming at their rear tire track!
“Hold on!” Daniel shouted over the roar of the wind.
Instead of continuing straight toward the south shore, Daniel suddenly yanked the handlebars sharply to the left, heading directly toward the center of the lake—a place marked by bright red danger flags floating in the snow.
Pine Crest Shoals.
Daniel knew this lake better than any man alive. He knew that near the center shoals, hot thermal springs ran beneath the lakebed, making the ice dangerously thin even in the dead of winter. It was the exact spot where his brother’s accident had occurred eleven years ago.
The pursuing snowmobiles didn't know the lake. They followed him blindly, thinking he was cornered!
“Daniel! The ice!” Mara screamed in terror as she saw the dark, cracked patterns appearing beneath their skis. “It’s cracking!”
“Trust me!” Daniel bellowed.
He pushed the throttle to its absolute limit, the engine screaming as they skimmed across a thick layer of black, precarious ice.
Behind them, the lead pursuer realized the danger too late.
The heavy machine hit a patch of paper-thin ice over the thermal vent!
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
A sound like thunder exploded across the lake!
The ice gave way instantly, a fifty-foot section collapsing into the pitch-black, freezing water below! The lead snowmobile plunged straight into the abyss, disappearing beneath the icy slush in a fraction of a second!
The second pursuer slammed on his brakes, his machine skidding sideways across the ice, spinning out of control until it hit a snowbank and overturned, throwing the rider across the hard surface.
Daniel safely cleared the thin ice patch, coasting his snowmobile onto the solid, thick ice of the southern shore.
He slowed the machine to a stop near the tree line, turning around to look back across the white expanse.
The lake was quiet again.
Standing on the high bluff near the north shore, half a mile away, stood Arthur’s lonely SUV.
Through the clear afternoon air, Daniel saw Arthur drop his rifle into the snow.
The distant siren of state police cruisers echoed through the mountain pass, their bright red and blue lights flashing against the snow-covered trees as five police cars surrounded Arthur’s vehicle on the ridge.
Dr. Marcus Thorne had arrived.
Daniel let out a long, ragged breath, his body slumping forward against the handlebars. His left arm was bleeding profusely, his hands were trembling, and his chest heaved with exhaustion.
A small hand reached around his shoulder, gently touching his cheek.
Daniel turned around.
Little Jamie was looking up at him, his fever completely broken, his clear silver-blue eyes bright and wide.
“We made it?” the boy asked softly.
Daniel looked from Jamie to Mara, whose hazel eyes were overflowing with tears of pure, overwhelming joy.
May you like
Daniel reached up, wrapping his warm hand over Mara’s, and pulled both her and the little boy into a tight, fiercely protective embrace against his chest.
“Yeah, little guy,” Daniel whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he looked into Mara’s eyes. “We made it. We’re home.”
