Typhoon Fury (Oregon Files 12)

He jammed his foot on the accelerator, and the Humvee shot down the road.

“You don’t have enough room to get by!” Maria cried out.

Ocampo’s heart raced as they rocketed forward. “We’ll make room. Hang on!”

He heard seat belts click while he drew his own across his chest.

The guard who had waved at them was now motioning for Ocampo to slow down. Only too late did he recognize the face looking back at him.

Ocampo tried to thread his vehicle between the compound gate and the Humvee without the machine gun, but there wasn’t enough room. The left side of the Humvee scraped along the gate while the right side smashed into the back of the other Humvee.

Two of the guards went flying when their Humvee was tossed into the other one. The rest of the guards dived for cover at the unexpected impact.

The wheel was torn from Ocampo’s hands as it spun. The Humvee plunged into a ditch and then back out as it bounced onto the dirt road.

No vehicles were in front of them.

Ocampo regained his senses and took off down the road, but something was wrong. The steering wheel was trying to yank itself to the right, and he couldn’t build any speed.

Either the impact with the other Humvee or the drop into the ditch had damaged the suspension. There was no way they could outrun the other Humvees now.

Assault rifles cracked behind them, and bullets splattered the rear of the vehicle.

“Get down!” he yelled, then screamed when one of the rounds pierced his right arm on its way through the windshield.

With just one good arm, he couldn’t hold the wheel straight any longer. The Humvee veered right and crashed into a tree.

For a moment, Ocampo was dazed by the impact. He came around only when Maria shook his shoulder, sending a fresh jolt of agony down his arm.

“The trees!” she yelled. “Our only chance is to try to lose them in the jungle.”

The dense foliage seemed impenetrable, but Ocampo wasn’t giving up if she wasn’t. He unbuckled himself and threw the door open. Holding his injured arm, he got out as quickly as he could.

They never had a chance to run. The guards’ damaged Humvee roared toward them, assault rifles pointing out the windows.

The other scientists all stopped and put up their hands. Ocampo didn’t even bother.

The Humvee swerved as it came to a halt. The guards jumped out, but they didn’t fire. They must have known how important the scientists were to Locsin’s goal of finding the formula for Typhoon.

“Down on the ground!” one of the guards yelled.

The other chemists complied, but Ocampo remained standing. He knew this was the end. He’d either die now or when Locsin realized he’d caused the others to mutiny. But he wouldn’t go back to work for Locsin.

“I said get down!”

Ocampo simply stared at him.

A moment’s hesitation crossed the guard’s face, but his anger at Ocampo not following his orders overcame any fear of what his boss might do later. He raised his rifle and pointed it at Ocampo’s head.

Ocampo closed his eyes, waiting for death.

He was shocked to hear an explosion. He thought everything would simply go dark, that he’d be dead long before he could hear a shot.

Then he realized it wasn’t the rifle that fired. It was an explosion down the road.

He opened his eyes to see smoke billowing up where the other Humvee had been.

All of the guards were facing the direction of the explosion, as confused as he was about what had happened.