Chapter 28 - The Breakout at Calumet
"Cover the rear loading bay!" Nicholas barked as the first flashbang detonated outside, blowing out the remaining window glass in a blinding white roar.
Julianne didn't hesitate. She fired three rounds through the wooden partition, dropping the first operative who rounded the exterior catwalk. "Arthur, get to your feet if you want to breathe another minute!"
My father hauled himself up, gritting his teeth against the agony, gripping a snub-nosed revolver. "Take the maintenance tunnel beneath the grain elevator. It leads to the freight rail tracks. There’s an automated coal train idling on the spur!"
"Move! Clara, go!" Nicholas shoved me toward the rusty iron hatch set into the warehouse floor.
Automatic gunfire shredded the wooden desk where my father had been lying seconds before. Wood splinters flew like shrapnel. Nicholas returned fire, his tactical training evident in every fluid, lethal motion, dropping two mercenaries in the hallway with ruthless double-taps.
I dropped into the darkness of the maintenance shaft, my boots hitting the iron rungs, the Glock cold and heavy in my grip. Julianne followed immediately, kicking the hatch shut and shooting out the hinge mechanism to buy us time.
We ran through the subterranean concrete tube, the deafening concussions of breaching charges echoing from the warehouse above us. The stench of coal dust choked my throat, but I didn't stop. I ran in my bare, bleeding feet, the ripped hem of my bridal gown trailing in the filth.
At the far end of the tunnel, a shaft of gray morning light illuminated a heavy steel grate.
Nicholas slammed into it with his shoulder, bursting the rusted latch open. We tumbled out onto the ballast gravel of the rail yard just as an automated, mile-long freight train carrying raw iron ore began to groan and roll forward along the tracks.
"Get on!" Nicholas roared, grabbing the steel ladder of a moving hopper car.
He pulled me up first, hoisting me onto the narrow steel catwalk between the cars. Julianne leaped next, catching the iron railing with one arm, her tactical coat whipping in the freezing wind.
"Arthur! Jump!" Julianne yelled.
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My father ran along the ties, his hand clutched to his bloody side, his face contorted in agony. He reached out with trembling fingers, but his foot caught on a cross-tie. He fell hard onto the sharp gravel.
"Dad!" I screamed, leaning out over the edge, reaching for him.
