Chapter 96 - The Serpent's Throat
My bullet struck the ballistic shield held by Victor Sterling's lead bodyguard, gouging a deep crater into the transparent ceramic but failing to penetrate. The return fire was overwhelming, forcing me back behind the reinforced crane pillar as concrete dust and shredded wiring rained down upon my shoulders.
"General Gardner!"
It was Vance’s voice crackling over my short-range comms.
"Vance! Where are you?" I barked into the mic.
"We breached the upper cooling manifold! We’re dropping explosive charges into Silo One and Two’s venting flues right now! But the blast is going to collapse the upper catwalks in your sector! You have three minutes to clear the blast apron!"
"Negative! The launch controls are physically locked in Silo Seven! I need you to detonate the charges on my mark, not before!"
"Understood, ma'am! We hold the detonator!"
Across the gantry, Victor Sterling was moving toward the master elevator shaft that descended into the deepest vault of the facility. "Finish her," he ordered his bodyguards. "And lock the blast door from below. Let her burn with the launch exhaust."
The four bodyguards advanced in an echelon formation, overlapping their fields of fire, pinning me behind the crane. There was nowhere to run. The catwalk behind me was severed, dropping two hundred feet into the concrete flame trench below.
Suddenly, a metallic shriek echoed from above.
Abigail had climbed onto the overhead crane tracks. She swung down like a shadow, clinging to the high-voltage cable, dropping directly behind the trailing two bodyguards. Before they could register the sound of her landing, she raised her submachine gun and fired a continuous sweep across their unarmored lower limbs.
The men collapsed with screams of agony. Abigail didn't hesitate; she stepped forward, firing point-blank into their helmets, neutralizing both threats in less than two seconds.
The remaining two guards turned their weapons toward her.
"Abigail!" I roared.
I lunged out from behind the pillar, tackling the nearest guard with the full weight of my body and armor. We slammed against the railing. I grabbed his helmet by the chin strap, twisted violently with all the combat training forged through thirty years of active service, and snapped his cervical spine.
The fourth guard swung his rifle toward me, but Abigail was already there. She drove the butt of her submachine gun into his faceplate, shattering the visor, then kicked him over the edge of the catwalk. The man plummeted into the dark void, his scream fading into the deafening hum of the missile's cooling fans.
We stood alone on the gantry platform.
The digital countdown above the missile nosecone flashed:
**IGNITION PROTOCOL: 01:45 MINUTES.**
"He went into the sub-vault," Abigail said, breathing heavily, wiping a smear of blood from her temple. "The master override is down there. Along with the true core of Project Leviathan."
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I checked my magazine. Four rounds left. I reached down, stripped two loaded magazines from the fallen bodyguards, and slapped one into my rifle.
"Then we go down," I said. "And we end this bloodline."
