Chapter 2 - The Red Light
My eyes locked onto the smudged ink on the hotel sleeve.
The father, David, slammed the front door shut and turned the deadbolt.
He leaned against the heavy wood, his chest heaving as he gasped for air.
He hadn't seen the key yet.
His gaze was entirely focused on the tiny bundle shivering against my chest.
I slowly knelt down and picked up the damp cardboard sleeve with my uninjured hand.
I handed it to David without saying a word.
His eyes dropped to the familiar handwriting.
All the color drained from his face in an instant.
He whispered that this was absolutely impossible.
His wife was gone, and he had buried her himself.
Outside, his brother Marcus began pounding furiously on the locked door.
Marcus screamed that we didn't understand what we were doing.
He yelled that the water wasn't meant to hurt the baby.
His wife Sarah chimed in, her voice shrill and desperate through the wood.
She claimed they were trying to save him from what was hidden inside the fabric.
I looked down at the thick, soggy blanket still wrapped around the carrier.
The baby whimpered, his tiny fists clutching my torn shirt.
David rushed over and carefully peeled back the layers of the wet blanket.
He felt along the thick seams near the bottom edge.
His fingers stopped abruptly over a hard, unnatural lump sewn into the hem.
He ripped the seam open with his bare hands.
A small, metallic device fell out into his palm.
It was about the size of a coin, totally waterproof, and emitting a rapid, pulsing red light.
The ice water had failed to short it out.
David realized out loud that this was a military-grade tracking beacon.
Someone had been broadcasting the baby's exact location to an unknown receiver.
The pounding on the front door suddenly stopped.
A heavy silence fell over the house, which was somehow far more terrifying.
I heard the distinct sound of a glass window shattering in the kitchen.
Marcus and Sarah weren't leaving.
They had just broken into the back of the house.
I gripped the baby tighter and looked at David for a plan.
He grabbed a heavy iron fireplace poker from the hearth.
He told me to run to the garage and get into his car.
I hesitated, unwilling to leave him alone with two desperate intruders.
He shoved the car keys into my pocket and pushed me toward the hallway.
Just as I reached the garage door, the house plunged into total darkness.
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Someone had cut the main power line outside.
Then, the red light of the tracker in David's hand began beeping with a high, frantic pitch.
