The snow-cat roared across the "Devil's Bridge," a narrow ribbon of stone suspended three thousand feet above a frozen gorge. Behind them, the avalanche was a white tidal wave, devouring the mountain.
"Choppers! Six o'clock!" Marcus yelled, fighting the steering as the wind tried to throw the three-ton vehicle into the abyss.
Two black attack helicopters banked over the ridge, their miniguns spinning up.
"Elara, take the wheel! Marcus, get the Stinger!" Silas roared.
He scrambled onto the roof of the snow-cat, his boots sliding on the ice. The wind was a physical wall, screaming at eighty miles per hour. He grabbed the mounted .50 caliber machine gun, but a burst from the lead chopper shattered the turret's shield.
Silas didn't flinch. He adjusted for the windage and pulled the trigger.
THUD-THUD-THUD.
The heavy rounds punched through the chopper's cockpit glass. The pilot slumped, and the bird spiraled into the canyon, exploding in a bloom of orange fire that lit up the night.
"One more!" Marcus shouted, shoulder-mounting a surface-to-air missile.
He fired. The missile streaked across the dark, a jagged line of white smoke. The second chopper deployed flares, but it was too close. The explosion ripped the tail rotor off. The helicopter spun wildly, clipping the very bridge they were on.
The bridge groaned. A massive crack spider-webbed through the stone beneath their treads.
"We're going down!" Elara screamed, floor-boarding the accelerator.
The rear wheels of the snow-cat slipped off the edge as the bridge collapsed into the void. Silas grabbed the roof rack with one hand and reached for Marcus with the other. For a split second, they hung over the abyss. Then, with a roar of pure adrenaline, Elara found traction. The vehicle surged forward, slamming onto the solid ground of the far cliff just as the bridge vanished into the darkness.