Free Web NovelChapter 102: Chapter 102 - Ambush
They reached Bridgeton as the light thinned into that uncertain gray where depth stopped behaving and every shadow felt intentional.
The radio crackled softly, the sound cutting through the tension just enough to pull her attention back.
"After the bridge," Waldo’s voice came through, lower now, more cautious. "We should stop soon. I know a place not far from here. Covered. Quiet. We don’t want to push into full night."
Malcolm didn’t answer right away.
Iyisha watched his reflection in the windshield.
"Copy," he said finally. "You lead."
The smaller car rolled ahead of them, Waldo driving steady, Lauren scanning the edges of the road, headlights washing over the approach to the newer span.
Iyisha locked her eyes on the covered bridge looming off to the side.
It was not broken or sagging or close to collapse. The wood was darkened with age but solid, beams thick and well fitted, the kind of structure built to last and quietly proven by time.
The interior swallowed light and in the dark, it seems so ominous. Anyone waiting inside would have cover without looking desperate, protection without revealing themselves.
It was the perfect place to wait.
She shifted slightly and felt it beside her.
Malcolm was uneasy.
His shoulders held tighter. His grip on the wheel firmed almost imperceptibly. His attention narrowed, not on the men in front of them alone, but on the bridge itself.
He had seen the same thing she had.
Iyisha drew in a slow breath, keeping her face still.
Then...
The tire blew without warning.
A sharp crack split the air, followed by the scream of rubber tearing itself apart. The smaller car lurched violently, swerving as Waldo fought the wheel, metal scraping as it skidded sideways and came to a hard stop just past the bridge.
"No," Iyisha breathed.
Malcolm reacted instantly, shifting gears and angling the Land Cruiser to pull around.
The radio crackled, Lauren’s voice cutting through sharp and fast. "We’re okay. We’re okay. Just the tire. We’re still upright."
Malcolm already moving out, to get them out of the open, to put metal between the disabled car and whatever came next.
He never got the chance.
Figures poured out of the covered bridge.
Not running. Not rushing. Just stepping out from between the beams and posts, filling the road ahead and bleeding into the space behind them with practiced calm. Others moved in from the trees and along the riverbank, closing angles, cutting off options.
Malcolm hit the gas.
The Land Cruiser surged forward, engine climbing fast, tires biting as he aimed for the open stretch, for the gap that still existed in that split second before it vanished.
Iyisha barely had time to register the movement.
Then she saw it.
Boards were dropping onto the road.
Wide planks slapped down hard, one after another, nails jutting up at angles, rows of them catching the dying light. The men laying them were smiling. Laughing. Stepping back like they already knew the outcome.
Spike strips, she realized.
"Malcolm," she shouted.
He saw them at the same time.
The brakes slammed.
The Land Cruiser skidded, momentum ripping through the cabin. Iyisha wasn’t buckled. The force threw her sideways, her shoulder slamming into the door, breath punching out of her chest as her head snapped hard against the window.
The car lurched and shuddered, tires screaming, then stopped just short of the boards.
Everything went still.
Iyisha sucked in a sharp, painful breath, fingers digging into the door as the world swam for a second. Her shoulder burned. Her ribs ached. She blinked hard, forcing focus back.
She turned and looked at Malcolm.
His jaw was locked tight, eyes fixed forward, hands clamped on the wheel, knuckles white.
Voices rose from both ends of the road.
Calm. Confident.
"Cut the engine."
Someone laughed.
Iyisha grabbed Malcolm’s arm, fingers tight. His jaw was locked, his grip on the wheel firm enough that his knuckles had gone pale.
The radio crackled again, louder this time, panic bleeding straight through the static.
"Shit," Waldo said. "Shit, Malcolm what are we going to do. They’re everywhere."
Iyisha twisted in her seat and looked back through the rear window.
People were moving in now, slow and careful, guns raised but not rushed, spreading out like they had all the time in the world.
No shouting. No chaos.
Practiced.
Like they had done this hundred of times.
Her heart hammered.
She turned back to Malcolm.
He was calm.
Too calm.
His eyes flickered, not frantic, not wide, tracking movement, counting positions, measuring distance and timing like he always did. His jaw was tight but steady, his breathing controlled. He was thinking. Not panicking. Looking for a way that probably did not exist.
Iyisha swallowed and grabbed the talkie before Waldo could spiral further.
"Hey," she said, forcing her voice steady. "Hey. Breathe. You’re okay. Just stay where you are. Don’t do anything stupid."
Even as she said it, she knew it was already too late.
She glanced out again. They were close now. Too close. Shapes flanking the doors, one near the hood, another drifting toward the rear, rifles angled low but ready.
There was no safe way for Waldo to reach them.
She lowered the radio slowly.
Malcolm looked at her then.
His eyes were certain in a way that made her stomach drop. Not resigned. Not defeated. Just decided.
He leaned slightly toward her, voice low and even.
"Do what they want," he said.
The words landed heavy and final.
Iyisha opened her mouth, breath catching.
A fist slammed against her door.
The sound was sudden and loud, metal ringing sharp in the confined space.
She jumped hard, heart lurching into her throat, hand flying instinctively to the seat as another knock followed, slower this time, deliberate.
"Engine off," a voice said from outside. Calm. Close. "Hands where we can see them."
Iyisha’s chest burned as she looked back at Malcolm, fear and trust colliding all at once, the world narrowing to the space between them while the road outside filled with people who had already decided how this was going to end.
