Asher stood on the running board of the lead transport truck, scanning the dirt road through a set of black field binoculars he had taken from the cab. Down in the valley floor, three miles past the ridge line, a Syndicate fuel depot sat guarded by low concrete walls and a single timber watchtower. "They have not doubled the guard yet," Asher said, stepping down into the loose gravel beside the truck's heavy front bumper. "The gate is wide open and the patrol cars are lined up at the pump rack." "They still think the ridge unit is holding the pass," Camila said, hopping out of the driver side with her rifle slung low across her hip. "We have the sun behind us. We can roll straight down the access lane before they recognize these vehicles." Kaelen jogged up from the secondary transport, carrying a wooden crate of rifle ammunition under his arm. "Garrett's three men are locked into the back of the heavy truck. They are ready to handle the side doors." "How is Michael holding u

"Two minutes until noon," Camila whispered, lying flat on her stomach beside Asher as she adjusted the iron sights on her rifle. "Are the heavy chains locked across the ties?" "Garrett and his men wrapped four links around the switch rail two hundred yards ahead," Asher said, keeping his eyes locked on the blind curve at the south mouth of the canyon. "The engine will hit the drag line before the engineer sees the blockage." Down on the gravel bed near the bend, Kaelen waved his arm once from behind a stack of rotting timber ties before ducking low into the brush. Beside him, Michael stayed pressed flat against the dirt bank, holding a small brass signal whistle in his fist. "Kaelen is in position," Asher said softly. "Remember, we aim for the cab windows and the coupling pins. Do not hit the boiler." "If we puncture that steam drum, the whole canyon turns into a scalding oven," Camila replied, resting her cheek against the wooden stock. "I will take the engineer on the righ

Asher crouched behind the low concrete wall beside the depot's front gate, his heavy revolver resting across his knee. Dust billowed thick and yellow over the southern rise as three black Syndicate scout cars roared down the dirt highway toward the compound. "Hold your breath, Thomas," Asher whispered to the older fuel manager kneeling beside him with a fresh rifle gripped tightly in his grease-stained hands. "Wait until all three cars clear the gate posts." "My hands are steady, stranger," Thomas muttered, pressing his cheek against the wooden stock. "Just say when." Across the wide gravel apron, Camila lay flat on the flat roof of the pump house, her rifle barrel poking out between two rusty iron vent pipes. On the opposite side of the yard, Kaelen and Garrett stood hidden behind a towering stack of empty steel fuel drums, waiting for the signal. "Where is Michael?" Kaelen whispered low to Garrett, keeping his eyes locked on the approaching headlights. "Locked inside the