Chapter 9 - The Siege of Carrow Manor
The police cruiser tore up the long, winding driveway of Carrow Manor, spraying gravel and water into the air.
Thick black smoke was already billowing from the second-story windows of the historic mansion.
"Stay in the car, Eli! That’s an order!" Trooper Miller commanded, pulling her service weapon from its holster as she kicked her door open.
Eli watched from the passenger window as Miller rushed toward the front porch.
Before she reached the door, a loud crash shattered the ground-floor windows. Uncle Vincent stumbled out onto the porch, carrying a heavy gasoline can and a duffel bag, his eyes wild and unhinged.
"Drop the weapon!" Trooper Miller yelled, aiming her gun at Vincent. "State Police! Down on the ground now!"
Vincent raised his revolver, firing a wild shot toward the cruiser that shattered the side mirror inches from Eli’s head.
Miller returned fire, landing two shots square in Vincent’s leg. Vincent screamed in pain, dropping his gun and collapsing onto the wet marble steps of the porch.
Within seconds, three more police cruisers and two fire trucks roared up the driveway, their sirens deafening in the night air. Officers tackled Vincent to the ground, slapping steel handcuffs onto his wrists.
Eli didn't wait for permission. He kicked his door open and sprinted past the police line toward the burning house.
"Eli, no!" an officer yelled, but the boy was already inside.
The grand foyer was filled with thick, gray smoke. Fire flickered along the heavy velvet drapes near the grand staircase.
"Dad! Grandpa!" Eli coughed, pulling his shirt up over his nose.
"Eli!" a deep, weak voice called out from the bottom of the stairs.
Eli ran through the smoke. Lying against the wood paneling near the study door was his father, Marcus. He was clutching a bloody towel against his abdomen where Vincent’s bullet had grazed his side, but he was alive, conscious, and moving.
Beside him sat Aunt Susan, holding a cloth to her wounded shoulder, weeping hysterically, while Grandfather Arthur sat in a chair, holding an iron poker to protect them.
"Dad!" Eli sobbed, throwing his arms around his father's neck.
May you like
Marcus held his son tightly, tears washing clean streaks through the soot on his face. "You made it... my brave boy... you made it..."
Firefighters rushed into the foyer with heavy hoses, pulling Marcus, Arthur, Susan, and Eli out into the cool, fresh night air as flames were extinguished in the study.
