The air turned into chaos—rotors slicing rain, beams of light colliding above the highway. One helicopter carried police insignia. The other bore nothing at all. Dan ducked behind his door as a voice from the unmarked chopper barked something in a language he didn’t recognize.
Bullets punched through the puddles near his boots. He hit the ground hard, hands over his head. The suited men scattered toward the ditch.
From above, the federal loudspeaker shouted again, “Stand down! You are not authorized—” and then static swallowed the rest.
Dan crawled beneath the cab, praying for cover, but something metallic rolled against his hand—something he hadn’t seen before.
