Chapter 7: Breathing in the Night
The cool night air hit Thomas like a splash of cold water as he stumbled out of the garage and onto the gravel driveway. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly began to recede, leaving a dull, aching throb in his bruised ribs. Clara rushed over to him, her hands trembling as she grabbed his arms, her eyes scanning his face for serious injuries.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you badly?” Clara asked, her voice choked with emotion, tears welling in her eyes as she looked at the torn fabric of his blue shirt and the scrape on his cheek.
“I’m fine, Clara. Just bruised,” Thomas murmured, offering a reassuring, exhausted smile. He gently placed a hand on her back, guiding her away from the garage door, which was now vibrating with muffled shouts and heavy thuds from inside. Julian and Martha were throwing themselves against the wood, desperate to break free, but the iron bolt held fast. “We need to move. They won't stay trapped in there for long.”
Clara nodded, pressing her hands against her swollen belly as a sharp contraction rolled through her, a physical reminder of the stress she had just endured. She winced, biting her lip to keep from crying out, but managed to keep walking toward Thomas’s battered sedan parked near the curb. The street was quiet, shrouded in the deep blues and grays of pre-dawn. The distant hum of a highway offered a lonely promise of civilization and safety.
As they reached the car, Thomas fumbled in his pocket for the keys, his fingers stiff and bruised. He unlocked the passenger door, helping Clara settle carefully into the front seat. Her green sweatshirt was stained with dust and oil, and her blue pants were scuffed at the knees, but the fierce determination in her posture remained entirely unbroken. Thomas climbed into the driver’s seat, slamming his door shut and inserting the key into the ignition. The engine sputtered to life with a comforting, familiar roar.
Through the rearview mirror, Thomas watched the house. The garage door bulged slightly as Julian threw his weight against it again, a muffled oath carrying through the night air. But Thomas shifted the gear into reverse, turning the steering wheel sharply. He backed out of the driveway, gravel crunching loudly beneath the tires, putting distance between themselves and the house of horrors.
“Where are we going?” Clara asked softly, resting her head against the cool glass of the passenger window as they drove down the empty suburban street.
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“Somewhere safe,” Thomas replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “A hospital first, to make sure you and the baby are healthy. After that... we figure out the rest together.”
***
