Chapter 8 - The Desperate Drive
The sedan sputtered violently and began to decelerate despite my foot pressing the gas pedal to the floor.
I frantically checked the dashboard gauges and realized the fuel tank was completely empty.
Daniel had deliberately drained the gas tank to ensure his accomplice could not double-cross him.
The car rolled to a pathetic stop on the shoulder of the deserted country road.
I slammed my hands against the steering wheel in total frustration.
Noah pointed a trembling finger toward the horizon.
The glowing red sign of the county medical center illuminated the dark sky just a mile away.
I grabbed the plastic bag of poisoned food hidden in my sweatpants and tucked it securely.
I told Noah we had to run the rest of the way on foot.
We abandoned the dead car and sprinted down the dark, empty highway.
The antidote had restored our strength, but exhaustion was rapidly setting in.
We reached the brightly lit emergency room bay just as it started to rain.
I burst through the automatic sliding glass doors, screaming for a toxicology team.
Nurses rushed toward us with a stretcher, seeing our muddy, bloodstained clothes.
I placed Noah on the bed and pulled the sealed bag of poisoned food from my waistband.
I grabbed a passing doctor by his white coat and shoved the bag into his hands.
I told him the food was laced with a specialized neurotoxin and he needed to test it for residual effects immediately.
The doctor looked at the bag, then looked up at my face.
His expression shifted from professional concern to complete, utter shock.
He quickly told the nurses to clear the hallway and move us to a private trauma room.
He firmly locked the heavy door behind us and closed the window blinds.
I thanked him profusely, believing we were finally safe.
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The doctor turned around and pulled out his cell phone, dialing a number from memory.
He pressed the phone to his ear and said, "Daniel, your wife and son just walked into my emergency room."
