Chapter 8 - The Red Pickup
The red pickup truck idled erratically, its engine roaring like an angry beast against the backdrop of the rusted rail station. Leo looked down at his father, whose breathing had grown agonizingly shallow, then across the gravel at Sam, whose face was smeared with dirt and tear tracks. The gunman was pinned beneath the crumpled metal of his own vehicle, groaning in pain, but the sound of distant sirens was already beginning to wail from the highway.
"I can't leave him, Sam!" Leo cried out, pressing his hands against his father's bleeding shoulder in a desperate, futile attempt to stop the flow.
"If you stay here, you die with him!" Sam yelled, rushing over and grabbing Leo by the collar of his gray t-shirt, hauling him up with a strength fueled by sheer panic. "Look at the treeline, Leo! More of them are coming!"
Leo whipped his head around. Two more black SUVs were tearing down the access road, kicking up thick clouds of dust as they converged on the parking lot. There was no time left. With a choked sob, Leo let Sam drag him toward the passenger door of the pickup, hoisting himself into the cab just as the first SUV slammed to a halt behind them.
Sam threw the truck into reverse, tires spinning violently in the gravel before catching traction. The truck fishtailed sharply, narrowly missing a concrete pillar as Sam slammed it into drive and floored the accelerator. They bounced over the broken remains of the wooden fence, plunging straight down the steep embankment toward the overgrown creek bed behind the rail station.
Branches whipped against the sides of the truck with deafening cracks, shattering the side mirror and leaving deep scratches across the faded red paint. In the passenger seat, Leo clutched the dashboard, looking back through the rear window. The SUVs had stopped at the top of the embankment; men in suits were pouring out, but they weren't shooting. They were just watching them go, standing side by side with Mr. Henderson, who calmly adjusted his cap.
"They aren't following us," Leo whispered, his voice trembling as the adrenaline began to wear off, leaving a hollow, aching void in his chest.
"Because they don't have to," Sam said, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white as he navigated the bumpy creek bed. "They own every road out of this county. We're trapped, Leo."
"Where are we going, Sam?" Leo asked, wiping a smudge of dirt and sweat from his forehead.
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Sam slowed the truck slightly, turning down a narrow, overgrown dirt path that led deeper into the dense pine forest. "To the only place my dad said nobody would ever look for us—the old drainage tunnels beneath the park."
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