It’s invisible to the eye. Even if the tactical team swept the truck, they wouldn’t find it. It looks like a weld plate, a reinforcement for the suspension.
I jam the tip of the Ka-Bar into the hairline crack.
I pry.
My arm shakes. I don’t possess the strength. The metal remains frozen, contracted tight.
I lean my forehead against the cold steel of the frame. I close my eyes, summoning the last reserves of energy, thinking of the men who took her. I picture the fear in her gaze and let the rage fill the empty spaces in my muscles.
I roar the effort from a raw throat, throwing my entire body weight onto the handle of the knife.
Screech.
The metal groans. The weld pops.
The plate falls away, landing in the snow with a dull thud.
Behind it hides a recess. A hollowed-out section of the frame rail.
Inside, a waterproof Pelican case sits secured by heavy-duty brackets.
I drag it out. It falls into my hands, heavy and solid.
I sink to the ground, cradling the case in my lap. My fingers fumble with the latches. They feel stiff, unyielding. I use the heel of my hand to hammer them open.
Click. Click.
I lift the lid.
It isn’t much. But it’s everything.
I find a SIG P226 subcompact with two spare mags, an untraceable analog short-wave comms unit, a sealed medical kit, and a silver foil packet.
I grab the foil first. The emergency blanket.
I rip the package open with my teeth. I unfold the crinkling, reflective material, catching the meager light of the stars. I wrap it around myself, pulling it tight, trapping what little body heat I have left. It feels flimsy and useless against the sub-zero wind, but it still forms a barrier.
I grab the medical kit and tear the seal.
It contains three auto-injectors: Morphine, Atropine, and Epinephrine.
I grab the Epi. Military grade. A distinct yellow cap.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t bother with the pant leg or cleaning the site.
I make a fist around the plastic cylinder and jam the needle into my right thigh.
Thud.
The hiss of pressurized gas delivery rings as the loudest sound in the forest.
I hold it there. One. Two. Three.
I yank it out and toss it into the snow.
The effect strikes instantaneously.
It hits my heart like a defibrillator paddle.Thump. A pause. Then a galloping, frantic rhythm sends fire sluicing through my veins.
