They left at 0300, the coldest, darkest hour before dawn. Kane led them out the back gate single file, boots quiet on the frost-hardened grass. The neighborhood was a tomb—only the wind and the occasional pop of distant gunfire broke the silence. He carried the Mk18 ready, suppressor on, chest rig tight with six magazines and the trauma kit. Liora stayed glued to his back, small hand fisted in his jacket. Raven followed her, breathing fast but steady. Willow brought up the rear, glasses fogged from the cold, pack straps creaking softly with every step.
The truck had been dead since the EMP—electronics fried like everything else running that night. Kane had planned for it. No working vehicles meant they walked. The cache was one-eighty miles west; they would cover the first twenty on foot tonight, staying off the main roads, then reassess at dawn.
They moved through backyards and alleys, avoiding the streets. Kane scanned every corner, every shadow. No words. Just the soft crunch of gravel and the faint smell of smoke drifting from the east.
They cleared the last suburban block without incident. The city edge opened up ahead—wide highway ramps and empty overpasses leading west toward the foothills. Abandoned cars sat stalled at odd angles, some with doors still open from the night the EMP hit. Kane kept them in the shadows of the guardrail, moving single file along the shoulder.
They made it halfway across the big interchange bridge before the roadblock appeared.
Figures moved in the dark ahead—nine men using two overturned semi-trailers as a barricade across all lanes. Flashlights swept the road. One of them spotted the group and shouted, "Hold up! Who the hell's out there?"
Kane didn't hesitate. "Down," he said, voice calm but hard. "Everybody down behind the nearest car. Liora, stay behind the engine block. Raven, Willow—get low and stay with her."
He slid into cover behind a stalled SUV, rifle up. Liora dropped beside him, small body pressed tight to the tire. Raven and Willow scrambled in behind the next car over, packs hitting the pavement with soft thuds.
Gunfire cracked out immediately—wild, unaimed shots from the barricade. Bullets sparked off metal and punched into the asphalt. Kane waited for the pause, then popped up just enough to pie the corner of the SUV hood. He picked the closest threat, a man with a rifle silhouetted against the flashlight glow, and fired a controlled double-tap to center mass. The man dropped. Kane fired once more into his chest to make sure he stayed down.
Shouts erupted. "They've got a gun! Spread out!"
Kane moved again—bounding low to the next stalled car ten feet ahead. He dropped to a knee, changed magazines under cover, and popped up on the far side. Two more men were advancing along the guardrail, trying to flank. He fired a double-tap on the lead one. The man folded. His partner tried to run back. Kane tracked him and put two rounds into his back. The runner went down hard; Kane fired again to confirm he was finished.
Four down.
The rest of the gang started laying down suppressive fire, bullets snapping through the air and punching into the abandoned vehicles. Kane stayed low, breathing steady. He waited for the next lull, then sprinted forward another bound, using the line of stalled cars for cover. Liora, Raven, and Willow stayed exactly where he'd left them—no panic, no movement unless told.
A shotgun roared from the barricade. The blast tore into the car Kane had just left. He came around the rear of a pickup, caught the shotgunner mid-reload, and put two rounds into his chest. The man fell back. Kane stepped out and fired once more to make sure.
Five down.
The remaining four tried to flank left along the overpass edge. Kane shifted right, staying low, and caught them in the open. He fired controlled pairs on the first two—double-taps to center mass followed by quick follow-up shots when they twitched. The third turned to run. Kane put two rounds into his back and one more when he hit the ground. The last man dove behind the trailer and started screaming for the others to fall back.
Kane didn't chase. He cleared the rest of the barricade from cover, checking every shadow, every possible hide. No more threats. The overpass fell quiet except for the ticking of cooling engines that would never start again and the soft groan of one wounded man who wouldn't last the night.
Kane walked back to the group, rifle still up until he was sure. He put one final round into the last groaning man to end it clean. Liora was still pressed against the tire, eyes squeezed shut. Raven and Willow were crouched low behind their car, breathing hard.
Kane lowered the rifle. "Clear," he said. "We keep moving."
Liora climbed out first, small hand grabbing his jacket again. She didn't cry. She just held on.
In the dim starlight, Willow stood up slowly, glasses askew. She looked at the bodies scattered across the overpass, then at Kane. Her voice came out shaky and small. "I… I don't know how you did that."
Raven stood beside her, hands trembling as she pushed her hair out of her face. "You just… you walked right into it. Like it was nothing." She swallowed hard. "We would've died if you weren't here."
Kane slung the rifle and started them moving again. "It wasn't nothing," he said quietly. "But we don't have time to talk about it. We keep moving west. The cache is still a long way."
They stepped around the bodies and the overturned trailers, packs heavy on their shoulders. The cold April air carried the faint smell of blood and gunpowder. Liora stayed glued to Kane's side. Raven and Willow followed close behind, still breathing fast, eyes wide with the kind of awe that came from seeing death up close for the first time.
They left the overpass and continued down the dark highway shoulder. Denver was behind them now, the city lights long gone. The Rockies loomed ahead, black against the slowly lightening sky.
Four people on foot. One mission.
The road west was open for now.
And the cache was still one-eighty miles away.