CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Hank was on his feet instantly.

He grabbed the fishing knife hanging on the wall. Not much of a weapon but better than nothing. I looked around for anything else we could use.

"Back window," Hank whispered. "Go."

The window was small. Barely big enough to fit through. I pushed it open as quietly as I could. The hinges squeaked anyway.

Outside, I heard footsteps. At least three people. Maybe more.

"Check the shack," a man's voice said. "They were seen heading this direction."

I climbed through the window first. Dropped to the ground outside. Landed in a thick brush that scratched my arms.

Hank came through right after me. We crouched low. Staying hidden in the undergrowth.

The front door of the shack burst open. Guards poured in. Flashlights sweeping the small space.

"Nothing," one of them said. "They're not here."

"Check outside. They can't be far."

We started crawling. Slow. Quiet. Moving away from the shack through the dense brush.

A branch snapped under my knee. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet morning.

"There!"

Flashlight beams swung toward us. I saw the guards raising their weapons.

"Run!" Hank yelled.

We ran. No point in stealth now. We just have to get away.

Bullets tore through the trees around us. Bark exploded. Leaves rained down.

I kept my head low. I kept running. My lungs burned. My legs screamed. But I didn't stop.

Hank was beside me. Keeping pace. Occasionally looking back to see how close they were.

"The road," he gasped. "If we can reach the road, flag down a car—"

Another shot. This one is closer. I felt the air move as the bullet passed my head.

Then the ground disappeared.

I was falling. Sliding down a steep embankment. Couldn't stop. Rocks and dirt cascading around me.

I hit the bottom hard. All the air left my lungs. For a second I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.

Hank landed beside me a moment later. He was up faster. Pulled me to my feet.

"You okay?"

I nodded. Couldn't speak yet.

We were in a ravine. Steep walls on both sides. A narrow creek running through the middle. The guards were at the top, looking down.

"They went into the ravine," one of them called into his radio. "Moving east. Send more men to cut them off at the bridge."

Bridge. That meant there was a way out. If we could reach it before the guards did.

We started running again. Following the creek. The ravine walls made it impossible for the guards to shoot at us without climbing down. That gave us a small advantage.

But not much of one.

The creek got deeper as we ran. Soon we were wading through water up to our knees. The current was stronger here. Trying to pull us downstream.

"There," Hank pointed ahead. "The bridge."

I could see it now. An old wooden bridge crossing the ravine. And on both sides, guards taking up positions.

We were trapped.

"Now what?" I asked.

Hank looked around. Assessing. Thinking. Then he pointed to where the ravine wall had partially collapsed. Creating a slope of loose rock and dirt.

"We climb."

"That's suicide. We'll be completely exposed."

"You have a better idea?"

I didn't.

We started climbing. The loose rock shifted under every step. I had to grab onto roots and small trees to pull myself up.

Halfway up, a guard spotted us.

"They're climbing the south wall!"

Bullets started flying again. I pressed myself flat against the slope. Dirt exploded around me.

Hank was above me. Still climbing. Moving fast despite the gunfire.

"Keep moving!" he yelled. "Don't stop!"

I climbed. Hand over hand. Not looking down. Not thinking about the bullets. Just focusing on the next handhold. The next step.

My fingers found the edge of the ravine. I pulled myself up and over. Rolled away from the edge.

Hank was right behind me. We were in someone's backyard. A house visible through the trees.

"Come on," he said.

We ran for the house. Behind us, guards were climbing the ravine wall. Giving chase.

The house was small. A Single storybuilding. An old pickup truck sat in the driveway.

Hank tried the truck door. Locked.

"Break the window," I said.

"No time."

He pulled me around to the back of the house. I tried the back door. Also locked.

I grabbed a rock from the garden. Smashed the window beside the door. Reached through and unlocked it.

We burst inside. The house was empty. No one home.

"Phone," I said. "We need to call for help."

I found a landline in the kitchen. Grabbed it. No dial tone.

"Dead," I said.

Hank was looking out the front window. "They're coming. At least six of them."

We were cornered again. Running out of options. Running out of time.

"The truck," I said. "Can you hotwire it?"

"Maybe. If I have time."

"I'll buy you time."

"Elise—"

"Just do it."

I grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter. Not much of a weapon but it was something. I went to the front door. Waited.

The guards were spreading out. Surrounding the house. They knew we were trapped.

One of them approached the front porch. Gun drawn. Moving carefully.

I waited until he was at the door. Then I yanked it open. Surprised him.

He raised his gun but I was faster. I grabbed his wrist. Twisted. The gun fell.

He was bigger than me. Stronger. But I'd trained for this at the academy. Knew how to use leverage. How to turn someone's strength against them.

I drove my knee into his stomach. Heard the air leave his lungs. Then I swept his legs. He went down hard.

The other guards saw what happened. Started running toward the house.

I ran back inside. Slammed the door. Locked it.

Wouldn't hold them long but it might give Hank enough time.

I heard the truck engine roar to life outside.

"Elise! Now!"

I ran through the house. Out the back door. The truck was idling in the driveway. Hank behind the wheel.

I jumped in. He threw it in reverse before I even closed the door.

We backed out fast. Turned. The guards were running around the house. Shooting.

The back window exploded. Glass rained down on us.

Hank floored it. The old truck lurched forward. Tires squealing on the pavement.

We were moving. Away from the guards. Away from Vincent's men.

But I knew this wasn't over.

Not even close.