Chapter 4 - Escape into the Dark
I pulled Carol behind me, raising the heavy steel wrench above my shoulder.
The back door creaked open, revealing a towering man dressed in a dark suit.
He stepped into the kitchen, the moonlight reflecting off a suppressed pistol in his hand.
Without thinking, I swung the wrench with all the strength my tired arms could muster.
The heavy metal connected with his wrist, producing a sharp crack that echoed in the tiny room.
The man grunted in pain, dropping the gun as he stumbled backward into the doorframe.
"Go!" I yelled at Carol, shoving her toward the front living room.
She moved faster than I expected, her crutches swinging swiftly across the floorboards.
The intruder lunged at me, grabbing my jacket and throwing me against the refrigerator.
I kicked hard at his knee, a dirty fighting trick I learned decades ago on the construction sites.
He buckled, and I used the opening to scramble away, sprinting after Carol.
We burst out of the front door, the cool ocean breeze hitting our faces as we ran for my truck.
I practically threw Carol into the passenger seat before diving behind the wheel.
The engine roared to life on the first try, a reliable sound that brought me instant relief.
I threw the truck into reverse, spinning the tires in the sand as I backed wildly out of the driveway.
The man from the kitchen stumbled out onto the porch, clutching his broken wrist.
I slammed the gearshift into drive and floored the accelerator.
We tore down Driftwood Lane, leaving the black SUV far behind in the rearview mirror.
"Are you okay?" I asked, glancing at Carol, who was breathing heavily and gripping the dashboard.
"I'm fine," she gasped. "Did he follow us?"
I checked the mirrors again, seeing nothing but empty, dark coastal roads.
"No, we lost him," I assured her, though my hands were still shaking on the steering wheel.
"Bradley isn't just trying to take the land," Carol said, her voice trembling.
"He sent an actual hitman to kill us, Arthur."
I gripped the wheel tighter, the horrifying truth settling heavily into my bones.
My son was not just a corrupt businessman; he was a murderer willing to eliminate his own father.
We drove in complete silence for over an hour, heading north toward the state capital.
I avoided the main highways, sticking to the old county roads that wound through the thick pine forests.
"We just need to make it to Marcus," I said, trying to reassure myself as much as her.
"Once the FBI has the flash drive, Bradley won't be able to touch us."
The truck's headlights cut through the deep darkness, illuminating the empty, winding asphalt.
Suddenly, a loud popping sound echoed from the front of the vehicle.
The steering wheel violently jerked to the right, nearly ripping itself from my hands.
"What was that?" Carol screamed as the truck swerved dangerously close to the ditch.
I pumped the brakes, fighting with all my strength to keep the heavy vehicle on the road.
"Blowout!" I shouted, wrestling the truck to a grinding, dusty halt on the gravel shoulder.
I grabbed my flashlight and jumped out, rushing to the front right tire.
It was completely shredded, pieces of black rubber scattered across the dirt.
But as I shined the light closer, my stomach plummeted.
Sticking out of the remaining tread was a thick, jagged piece of hollow metal.
It was not a nail or a piece of road debris.
It was a hollow-point caltrop, military-grade and specifically designed to destroy tires.
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I looked down the dark, empty road behind us, realizing the terrifying truth.
We had not lost them at all; we had been driven right into a trap.
