Chapter 10
The dense pine forest gives way abruptly to a steep embankment of loose gravel and dry dirt that drops down to the shoulder of the interstate highway. Headlights from massive eighteen-wheelers streak past in a blur of blinding white and red, casting rhythmic flashes of light across the anxious faces of the three fugitives. Daniel helps Clara slide down the slippery slope, digging his heels into the loose soil to keep them from tumbling onto the rushing asphalt. Martha follows closely behind, her uniform torn at the sleeve and her bandaged hands gray with soot and dirt.
They crouch behind a concrete culvert just off the highway shoulder, shielded from the passing traffic by a thick patch of wild sumac. The roar of the engines drowns out any distant sounds of pursuit from the estate behind them, but the danger is far from over. Daniel pulls the encrypted thumb drives and the folded legal documents from his pockets, checking to ensure they survived the frantic descent through the forest. They are intact, wrapped tightly in plastic lining Martha had foresightedly grabbed from the studio supply shelf.
"We need a vehicle," Daniel says, checking his phone again. Still no cellular service down in this concrete trench, blocked by the highway overpass just fifty yards up the road. "We have to walk to the truck stop at the next exit."
Clara pulls her dark sweater tighter around her shivering frame, her face pale in the reflected glare of the passing headlights. "I can walk, Daniel. Let's move before her private cars start sweeping the highway."
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Martha stands up slowly, peering up the concrete embankment toward the overpass. "There’s a public emergency call box right under the bridge," she points out, her voice steady despite the lingering terror in her eyes. "And I know a trucker who makes weekly runs down to the federal district attorney’s office in the city. He owes me a favor from when I helped him cover up a minor medical emergency at the estate gate last winter."
Daniel looks at the young maid with newfound respect. In the span of twelve hours, Martha has evolved from a silent, obedient servant into a hardened survivor and a brilliant tactician. He nods, extending a hand to help Clara back to her feet. Together, they scramble up the concrete slope toward the shelter of the overpass, stepping out of the wilderness and into the harsh, fluorescent glare of modern civilization.
