Chapter 7 - The Docks of Despair
I bolted down the hospital stairs, my bare feet bleeding against the rough concrete.
I slipped out through the loading dock doors and into the cold, rainy night.
A delivery van was idling by the curb, the driver nowhere in sight.
I didn't hesitate for a single second.
I jumped into the driver's seat, slammed the door, and sped away from the hospital.
The drive to Pier 44 took agonizingly long in the heavy midnight rain.
The abandoned shipping docks were shrouded in a thick, eerie marine fog.
Rows of rusted shipping containers towered like massive metal graves in the darkness.
I parked the stolen van a block away and crept forward on foot.
Near the edge of the dark, crashing water, I spotted Brandon's black luxury sedan.
The headlights were off, but the interior dome light was glowing faintly.
I sneaked up to the passenger side window and peered inside.
Evelyn was sitting in the front seat, crying hysterically.
Her hands were bound to the door handle with thick zip ties, and duct tape covered her mouth.
She looked at me through the wet glass with eyes full of absolute terror.
I reached for the door handle to free her.
Suddenly, a cold, hard metal cylinder pressed firmly against the back of my skull.
"Turn around very slowly, darling," Brandon whispered directly into my ear.
I raised my hands in surrender and slowly turned to face him.
He was holding a massive, silver handgun, his finger resting perfectly on the trigger.
His eyes were completely wild, bloodshot, and devoid of any human emotion.
"I brought the confession papers," he said, waving a folder in my face.
"Sign them, and then take a long swim in the freezing current," he demanded.
"Let me see Nancy first," I demanded, holding my ground despite the gun.
May you like
Brandon smirked and tossed a set of car keys onto the wet concrete.
"She's in the trunk, see for yourself," he challenged.
