Chapter 5: Retreat and Resolve
Clara darted down the hallway just as David retreated from the front foyer, his face pale and slick with cold sweat. He grabbed Clara by the shoulders, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. They're here, Clara. How did they find us? It doesn't matter how they found us, David! We have to get out through the garage! Clara hissed, her voice sharp and commanding as she pulled away from him to reach Leo’s bedroom door. She pushed it open gently. Leo was sitting on the edge of his bed, clutching a stuffed brown bear so tightly his knuckles were white. He looked up with wide, uncomprehending eyes. Mommy? Are the bad men here? No, sweetheart, we're just going on a little trip, Clara lied, forcing a strained, trembling smile onto her face as she knelt in front of him. She grabbed a heavy canvas backpack from the floor, unzipping it to shove in a couple of spare shirts and a water bottle. David rushed into the bedroom, pulling a set of heavy keys from his pocket. The garage door is jammed—the track rusted out last month, remember? We can't get the car out. We have to go through the backyard treeline toward the Miller property. Clara stopped packing, glaring at him in disbelief. The Miller property? That's miles of dense brush and swamp land! Leo can't walk that far in sneakers! He has to, Clara! David shouted in a harsh whisper, grabbing a heavy wool blanket from the closet and wrapping it around the boy’s shoulders like a cloak. They aren't just debt collectors or corporate thugs. Those men are professionals. If they get inside this house, we don't walk out. A loud, splintering crash echoed from the front of the house, followed by the sound of heavy boots trampling over the broken ceramic vase in the living room. They had broken the front window. Time had officially run out. David shoved the heavy bedroom window upward, the wooden sash sticking before giving way with a sharp screech of sliding paint. He hoisted Leo up, passing the trembling boy through the opening into the overgrown flowerbed below. Clara scrambled out next, her bare arms scraping against the rough brick exterior as she dropped onto the damp grass. David followed last, pulling the window shut behind them just as heavy footsteps thudded down the hallway toward the bedroom door. Run, David whispered, grabbing Leo’s small hand. Don't look back.
