Chapter 3 - The Fatal Dose
I stared at the dark barrel of the gun.
My maternal instincts screamed at me to fight, but logic kept my feet planted.
"Why are you doing this?" I cried out, my voice breaking.
"The life insurance policy pays out triple for a tragic accidental gas explosion," Daniel explained casually.
He reached behind him and turned the knobs on the gas stove without pressing the igniter.
The sharp, rotten smell of raw gas immediately began filling the kitchen.
"You are going to blow up your own son?" I sobbed.
"Noah was an unplanned expense," Daniel replied without a shred of human emotion.
I tightened my grip on the handle of the butcher knife.
I knew I only had one chance to save my child.
I threw the heavy knife directly at his face with everything I had.
Daniel flinched instinctively, raising his arm to block the spinning blade.
The knife sliced deeply into his forearm, and he dropped the gun with a sharp cry of pain.
I lunged forward and tackled him to the floor.
I desperately jammed my hand into his left jacket pocket.
My fingers closed around a small, cold glass vial.
I grabbed the vial, scrambled to my feet, and scooped Noah off the floor.
I kicked the back door open and sprinted out into the freezing rain.
I ran until my lungs burned, hiding us behind the thick oak tree in the neighbor's yard.
Noah was gasping for air, his lips turning a terrifying shade of blue.
I popped the cork off the glass vial with my teeth.
"Drink this, baby, it will make you better," I pleaded, pouring the bitter liquid into his mouth.
Noah swallowed weakly and closed his eyes.
I waited for his breathing to stabilize.
Instead, his entire body went completely rigid.
His eyes rolled back into his head, and white foam began bubbling from his lips.
I held the empty glass vial up to the pale moonlight to read the tiny, faded label.
May you like
It was not an antidote.
It was a highly concentrated paralytic agent.
