Page 131 of Knox Unleashed
It’s impossible for our convoy to move quietly this late at night. So, we don’t try to. The throaty roar tears through the swamp roads. Headlights cut through the thick darkness as we ride tight and disciplined.
I lead.
North is to my left. Steady and assured.
Ridge and Havoc ride behind us.
Behind them, chapters blend until the end of the convoy, where two vans follow with weaponry and medical equipment courtesy of Reaper. And that’s the thing about this life. When it counts, when it really matters, when who we are is on the line, we pull together and act as one.
Blood and loyalty.
It takes a little over ninety minutes to get there as we ignore speed limits.
Adrenaline starts to fizz through my veins the closer we get. I’ve always felt immortal on rides with my brothers, and maybe it’s because Maren is at home waiting for me, but this time, I also feel…well, human.
Mortal.
Which is why I made a choice to put a tactical vest under my shirt. It’s not something I normally do. Haven’t even told anyone I’ve done it. But if I’m expecting Maren to adapt, maybe I should too, and do whatever I can to ensure I make it home to her.
Groups begin to peel off, some attacking power lines to bring darkness, some heading to the north end of the dock, some to the south.
When we finally cut our bikes on a deserted side road off the main route to the dock, the silence is almost violent.
“For Vandal,” I say to North, bumping my fist to his.
“Vandal,” he replies.
We’d debated hijacking the truck once it was loaded up. It was certainly less risky than what we’re about to do. But there was a general consensus that we needed Alvarez to know it was us. To see the force we could deliver. To feel the pain we could bring to his men.
So, we’d voted for dominance.
Sticking to the shadows of the occasional building on the mostly derelict road, we make our way to the dock.
Floodlights cut harshly across the yard, illuminating a spread of corrugated shipping containers. A handful of men mill about, looking out over the water.
“They’re waiting for the boat,” Sunny whispers.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Havoc says before chuckling.
Sunny nudges him so hard, Havoc lands on his ass. Some might wonder why we behave like this in these kinds of moments. The truth is, it’s how we get through them. How we face them. Because humor is best served before looking death in the eye.
North puts down his binoculars. “Perimeter lights on the south side. The heaviest is by that outbuilding.”
I take his binoculars and look. The men look uniformed. All in black. With slick-looking weapons. There may be more of us than there are of them, but I wonder if they are all ex-military with stronger tactical skills.
“Halo,” I hiss at the New Jersey road captain. “You think they’re military?”
He nods. “The patrols are organized, on a timed routine. They march in sync. Not planned, but likely habit.”
Shade nods. “Was thinking the same.”
The truck comes through the gates just as we’re about to move. It’s a big rig, its headlights cutting through the dark. And I’m glad to see it for two reasons. The first, it’s proof that there’s a big delivery of something coming in, given the size of the truck. And second, the way the driver’s reversed into the gate means he’s blocking it as an exit.
“If we can carry the weapons out to the two vans,” I say, “it’ll take them a minute to get the rig out of the way before any of the vehicles inside can get underway to follow us.”
“That’s not enough time,” North says. “Unless the van comes down to meet us all.”
And there aren’t a lot of roads out of here that lead us back to our side of the peninsula, so every second will count.
