The bright lights of three large SUVs broke through the thick fog behind them. The blinding lights made long, scary shadows across the wet dirt and the broken metal of the smashed bridge.
"They are here," Clara whispered. Her fingers were frozen around the handle of Alexander’s heavy black gun. The metal felt very cold against her skin, but she did not drop it.
Alexander did not panic. He turned off their car's headlights so they would not be easy targets. Now, the only light came from the glare of the enemy trucks.
"Marcus," Alexander called out, looking into the back seat. "Can you move?"
Marcus let out a weak cough. His face looked very pale in the dark. He held a small black gun in his right hand, but his left hand was pressed tight against his bleeding stomach. "I can shoot, sir.
