Chapter 4 - Flight Through the Pines
"How did she—" Chloe gasped, her teeth chattering so violently she could barely articulate the words.
"The spare key under the dash," Margaret realized instantly. She had taught Lily how to start the engine during their Sunday drives through the orchard, never dreaming the skill would be used like this. Margaret shoved Chloe toward the car. "Get in! Now!"
David surged forward up the bank, shedding all pretense of restraint. "Chloe! Step away from that vehicle!" he bellowed, breaking into a sprint. The gun was raised now, not aimed directly at them, but leveled menacingly at the tires.
Margaret reached the driver's side just as David crested the muddy embankment. She ripped the door open, gently pushed Lily over into the passenger seat, and shoved Chloe into the back. Before David could close the twenty-yard gap, Margaret slammed the door, threw the ancient automatic transmission into reverse, and stomped on the gas.
The rear tires spun violently against the loose gravel, spitting a shower of stones into the air. One sharp rock struck David square in the forehead, causing him to stumble back with a cry of pain. Margaret spun the wheel, shifting into drive, and gunned the engine. The Volvo surged forward onto the narrow, pothole-riddled dirt road just as the deafening crack of a gunshot shattered the afternoon air.
The side mirror on the driver's side exploded into a thousand glittering shards of plastic and silvered glass. Inside the cabin, Lily screamed, pressing her face into the damp fabric of Chloe's knees as Chloe threw herself over the child, sobbing uncontrollably.
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"Did he shoot at us?! He shot at us!" Chloe shrieked from the backseat, clutching Lily's trembling shoulders. "He's insane, Margaret! He's lost his mind!"
Margaret said nothing. Her hands were locked onto the ten-and-two positions of the steering wheel, her knuckles bleached white. In the rearview mirror, she watched the blue pickup truck roar to life behind them, its high beams cutting through the gathering gloom like predatory eyes. There was only one road off the peninsula, and five miles of winding forest lay between them and the state highway. But as Margaret glanced at the dashboard, the yellow fuel light began to blink relentlessly.
