Chapter 8 - The Ghost of the Mountain
The old railway yard on the outskirts of the city was a graveyard of rusted boxcars and overgrown
tracks, silent under the heavy winter snow. I slammed the SUV through a rotting chain-link gate, the
metal screeching against the bumper as we plunged into the dark labyrinth.
The headlights behind us followed, their beams bouncing wildly over the uneven terrain.
“Elena, take the wheel,” I ordered, climbing into the back seat as the SUV bounced violently over
an old set of tracks.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, grabbing the steering wheel from the passenger side.
“I’m going to give them a distraction,” I said. I grabbed a heavy flare from my emergency kit,
cracked it open, and threw it out the shattered back window. The brilliant, crimson light erupted in the
snow, blinding the driver of the lead pursuit vehicle.
The lead SUV swerved violently to avoid the flare, its tires losing traction on the icy rails. It slid
sideways, slamming into the side of a rusted boxcar with a deafening crunch of metal and a shower of
orange sparks.
One down.
“Turn left here!” I shouted to Elena. “Through that old warehouse door!”
Elena swung the wheel, and my SUV crashed through the rotting wooden doors of an abandoned
locomotive shed. Inside, the air was cold and smelled of grease and old coal. We roared through the dark
interior, bursting out the other side onto a narrow dirt road that led toward the base of the mountains.
The second pursuit vehicle was still behind us, but the distance had grown.
We drove in silence for the next three hours, abandoning the main highways for winding, unpaved
logging trails that only hunters and locals used. The SUV’s engine was groaning, the radiator damaged
from the collisions, but it held together until we reached the high, rocky ridges of the Blue Ridge
Mountains.
By the time we reached the final ascent to my cabin, the vehicle was steaming, the temperature
gauge pinned in the red. I rolled the dying SUV into a deep, pine-shaded hollow a mile below the cabin,
completely hidden from the road.
“We walk from here,” I said, helping the girls out of the back.
The night was quiet, the storm having passed completely, leaving a brilliant canopy of cold stars
overhead. We walked through the deep snow, the twins holding my hands, their small boots making soft,
rhythmic crunching sounds. They were tired, their steps dragging, but they didn't complain. They knew
we were walking toward safety.
As we reached the clearing of the cabin, the old stone structure stood silent and proud in the
starlight. It looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the violence we had left behind in the city.
We went inside. I quickly secured the doors and started a small, smokeless fire in the hearth to
take the chill out of the air.
Elena sat at the kitchen table, her phone dead, her laptop running on its remaining battery. “We’re
completely cut off, Daniel. If Vance’s people find us here, we have no backup.”
“They won't find us easily,” I said, sitting down beside the twins, who were already drifting off to
sleep by the warmth of the fire. “The logging road is completely iced over, and I’ve set up warning
wires on the lower trail. If anyone tries to walk up here, we’ll know long before they reach the clearing.”
I looked down at the silver locket Lily had given me, still clutched in my hand.
“We have the evidence, Elena,” I said softly. “Vance’s entire career, his freedom, his life—it’s all
on that laptop. He’s going to come for us with everything he has because he knows if he doesn't, he’s
going to spend the rest of his life in a federal penitentiary.”
“Are you ready for this, Daniel?” she asked, looking at me with a deep, silent respect.
“I’ve been ready since the day Mara died, Elena,” I replied. “But now, I’m not just fighting to
avenge her. I’m fighting to give these girls the life she wanted them to have.”
Suddenly, the soft, metallic chime of my tactical tripwire receiver in my pocket began to vibrate.
May you like
Three short pulses.
Someone was on the lower trail. And they weren't alone.
