Chapter 34 - The Last Transmission
The blast wave threw us both into the wet grass behind the hangar, the roar of the explosion shaking the earth beneath us. Thick black smoke billowed into the night sky, instantly swallowing the private jet and the burning shell of the building. Coughing violently, I wiped the mud from my face and struggled to my feet, clutching the heavy data drive in my left hand like a lifeline.
My father was on his knees beside me, clutching his side where a dark stain of blood was rapidly spreading across his trench coat. He was breathing heavily, his face pale under the flickering orange glow of the fire.
"Mera... listen to me," he gasped, his fingers gripping my wrist with terrifying urgency. "The drive you have... it’s only half the key. The second half is locked inside the sub-basement of Walter Reed, beneath Nathan’s room. Cross doesn't want the data destroyed; she wants it synchronized so she can initiate the protocol herself."
"We have to get back to the hospital," I said, my voice shaking as I tried to pull him to his feet. "I can patch you up, we can—"
"No," he interrupted, coughing up a spray of dark blood that glistened in the firelight. "I can't go back there. If Cross catches me again, there won't be a fake funeral next time. You need to run, Mera. Go back to Nathan. Finish what you started."
Before I could answer, the crunch of gravel behind us signaled the approach of another vehicle. Headlights pierced through the smoke, illuminating the wreckage of the airfield. An armored Suburban skidded to a halt ten feet away, and the passenger door swung open.
It wasn't Director Cross.
Nathan Vance sat in the front passenger seat, his face caked in sweat and dirt, holding an assault rifle across his lap with one hand while the driver kept the engine revving. His eyes locked onto mine through the smoke and fire, filled with a fierce, unwavering devotion that defied every logic of war and betrayal.
"Get in, Mera!" Nathan shouted over the roar of the engine. "We're going back to finish this!"
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I looked down at my bleeding father, then back at Nathan waiting in the vehicle. In one fluid motion, I helped my father lean against the trunk of a nearby pine tree, pressed the Glock into his hand, and sprinted through the mud toward the waiting Suburban. The door slammed shut behind me, and the vehicle bolted forward into the night, racing back toward Washington as the distant sirens began to wail across the highway.
***
