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Liv didn't know how long she had been knocked out. It felt as though a troop of evil monkeys had used her head as a soccer ball. The world was pitch-black. Suddenly, the memory of her ordeal returned. She frantically felt around in the passenger floorboard until she found what she was looking for, the Go Bag. She reached in and dug around until she found a powerful, Surefire weapons light.
Liv clicked the beam to life and examined the wrecked Porsche. Dust covered everything. The hood was popped open; its twisted sheet metal covered the gaping hole where the windshield had been. Chunks of safety glass lay everywhere, glittering like diamonds under the flashlight's beam. Liv tried unbuckling her seatbelt, but it wouldn't release.
After struggling with the stubborn button, she reached for the Go Bag and pulled out the Buck Strider pocket knife. She cut the belt free with one quick movement then began searching the interior for her cell phone. The broken hunk of plastic was on the floorboard where it landed after slamming into the dash. Liv tried to turn the overhead light on, but nothing happened when she clicked the switch. "Sorry Murph, I didn't mean for it to end like this," she touched the steering wheel sadly.
Gradually, Liv became aware of her aching body. The adrenaline spike from waking up in total darkness was wearing off, giving way to exhaustion and pain. Liv began methodically testing her body. Though heavily bruised, everything seemed to work. The seatbelt that saved her life also created a large bruise across her chest. Nothing felt broken. Groaning, she worked on exiting the wrecked car.
Liv crawled into the ruined rear hatch. She was almost out of the car when the memory of her pursuer flashed into her head, like a bad dream. Liv immediately turned around and used the Surefire to locate the Steyr, which had lodged itself under the gas pedal during the crash. The last full magazine took longer to find. It was stuck under the passenger seat at an odd angle. Liv stuffed the Steyr into the band of her skirt, grabbed the Go Bag from the passenger seat and crawled out of the ruined car. The knee high boots protected her legs as she crawled through the chunks of glass littering the car. She used the Go Bag to protect her hands and finally extricated herself from the car.
"I'll be back, Murph, I gotta go get help okay. You'll be fine, I promise. It's just a scratch." She sadly tugged at a ruined NRA bumper sticker then headed away from the car. The mineshaft wasn't much taller than the Porsche and she had to stoop over to walk.
The mine smelled old. The timbers supporting it were sturdy, but many of them were put in place over one hundred years ago. A thick layer of dust covered everything and she had to fight to keep from sneezing. "God, I bet I'm a sight," she muttered as she shone the light on her dirt covered legs and skirt. She didn't even want to know what her face looked like right now. The bruise where she hit the steering wheel hurt like a son of a bitch.
Liv approached the entrance cautiously. She had no idea where her tormenters were and didn't want to take any chances. From an early age, her dad taught her the proper way to handle a gun. He always told her it might save her life and she was always eager for the next lesson.
Her first gun had been a Walther P-22 that her dad bought for her tenth birthday. The little weapon wasn't particularly powerful, but it was accurate and easily handled by a young girl. To tease his tomboy daughter and get back at her for the fake designer Go Bags, he dyed the plastics pink. She hated to admit it, but it was still her favorite weapon.
As a young girl, Liv looked forward to target shooting in the mountains with her dad. When they got bored shooting tin cans, they would trade in the firearms for paintball guns. He would teach her SWAT and military tactics. Her dad never told Liv where he learned the skills and always deflected her questions about what kind of job would teach someone to be so proficient with a gun. At first, the maneuvers had been for fun, but Liv took to it like a fish to water. Soon, her dad actually had to try and outfox her. Even then, she often figured out his game before he got a drop on her. The drills paid off when her dad's buddies stopped by for a game of all out paintball warfare. Battles lasted all day, covering miles of grueling mountainous terrain.
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