Chapter 7 - The River Road
The narrow pipe sloped steeply upward, forcing us to scramble on all fours through frigid, rushing water. My knees were scraped raw against the jagged concrete, and my lungs burned from the thick chemical smoke drifting up behind us, but fear drove us forward.
“Keep moving, Lily! Keep crawling, Maya!” I shouted over the rushing water.
After two hundred yards of grueling vertical climbing, the air suddenly grew fresher. The smell of sulfur gave way to the sharp, sweet scent of damp pine needles and wet earth.
Ahead of us, a rusted iron grate blocked the mouth of the tunnel. Beyond the bars, the silver moonlight was reflected on the broad, dark surface of the Blackwood River.
We were at the old mill outlet, two miles south of the city.
“Caroline, help me!” I yelled, throwing my shoulder against the heavy rusted grate.
Together, we slammed our combined weight against the iron bars. The old, corroded hinges groaned in protest, snapping with a loud CRACK. The grate swung open, tumbling into the muddy riverbank below.
We spilled out of the pipe, tumbling down the muddy incline onto the rocky shore of the river.
Lily and Maya collapsed onto the wet grass, coughing violently, their clothes soaked and covered in black sludge. Caroline sank to her knees beside them, her hands trembling as she pulled both girls into a tight embrace.
“Are you okay? Is anyone shot?” I asked frantically, dropping beside them to check their arms and legs.
“We’re okay… we’re okay,” Caroline sobbed, kissing Lily’s forehead over and over. “Mark… you saved us.”
I looked back up toward the dark mouth of the drainage pipe. Thin wisps of red smoke were still curling out into the night air, but deep inside the tunnel, I could hear the distant, splashing sound of Vance’s men pursuing us.
“They’ll be out in two minutes,” I said, hauling Caroline to her feet. “We need a vehicle.”
We sprinted up the steep riverbank toward the old, abandoned timber mill that sat beside the highway bridge. The rusted corrugated steel building looked completely dead, surrounded by overgrown weeds and broken machinery.
Parked beneath an overhang near the main office was an old, faded red Ford F-150 pickup truck—a mill worker's vehicle left behind decades ago, or so I hoped.
I rushed up to the driver’s side door and pulled the handle. It opened with a loud creak.
“Check the ignition!” Caroline urged, holding the girls close to the truck frame.
I reached under the steering column, pulling down the loose wiring bundle. It was an old manual ignition system from the late eighties—no electronic chips, no anti-theft sensors. I stripped the insulation off two heavy wires with my pocket knife and sparked them together.
SPARK! VROOM!
The heavy V8 engine roared to life with a loud, sputtering cough, shooting a cloud of black exhaust into the damp night air.
“Get in!” I yelled, shoving open the passenger door.
Caroline lifted Maya and Lily into the bench seat, scrambling in right behind them. I slammed the truck into gear, stomped on the gas pedal, and the heavy truck surged forward, tearing up the gravel driveway just as three armed men burst out of the woods near the riverbank.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Bullet holes punched through the truck’s tailgate, shattering the rear windshield into a spiderweb of frosted glass. Lily screamed, burying her head in Caroline’s lap.
I swerved hard onto the asphalt of Route 9, the tires screaming against the wet pavement as I slammed the gas pedal to the floorboards.
The old truck surged into the dark, speeding down the empty highway away from the city.
May you like
I looked in the side mirror. The woods and the old mill receded into the night, but far in the distance, two bright xenon headlights pulled onto the highway behind us.
Vance’s SUV was in pursuit.
