Chapter 10: The Flashlight Beam
The harsh beam of the industrial flashlight swept across the rusted corrugated metal of Warehouse 4, stopping just inches from where Elena pressed herself flat against the wall. The rhythmic crunch of heavy boots grew louder, accompanied by the metallic jingle of a utility belt.
Jax didn't panic. With a final, silent twist of his hunting knife, the last rusted screw gave way, and the heavy steel intake vent clattered softly onto the gravel. Without a word, Jax grabbed Toby by under his arms and hoisted the boy effortlessly into the dark, damp interior of the vent shaft.
“Crawl straight ahead, Toby. Don't look back,” Jax whispered urgently, before sliding the metal grate halfway back into position.
The heavy boots stopped just around the corner of the stack of shipping containers. A uniformed officer cleared his throat, his silhouette stretching long and distorted across the foggy pavement.
“I know someone’s out here. Step out into the light with your hands behind your head or I’m calling in the K-9 unit,” the guard barked, his hand resting conspicuously on the holster of his sidearm.
Elena felt her muscles tense, every instinct screaming at her to run. But running meant abandoning Toby, and abandoning Toby meant losing the last tether to her brother. She slid her hand along the damp ground until her fingers brushed against a loose length of heavy iron chain left behind by the dock workers.
Before the guard could round the corner and shine his light directly into their hiding spot, Jax burst out from the shadows on the opposite side of the aisle.
“Over here, you idiot!” Jax shouted, deliberately drawing the guard’s attention away from Elena’s position.
The guard whipped around, spinning his flashlight beam toward Jax just as the mechanic lunged forward. Jax slammed his shoulder into the guard’s chest, driving him backward against the side of a steel container with a dull thud. The flashlight slipped from the guard’s grasp, clattering onto the gravel and casting wild, spinning shadows across the ground before the bulb flickered and died, plunging them back into near-total darkness.
Elena wasted no time. She scrambled through the open intake vent, squeezing her shoulders through the narrow metal opening just as the sounds of a scuffle echoed outside. The interior of the warehouse was cavernous, smelling of old motor oil and damp concrete. She dropped onto the concrete floor with a muffled grunt, her eyes straining to adjust to the dim ambient light filtering through the high, grimy windows near the ceiling.
“Toby?” Elena hissed quietly into the echoing darkness.
A small hand reached out from behind a large generator crate, grabbing her index finger.
“I’m here, Aunt Elena,” Toby whispered, his voice shaking. “I heard them talking. They brought my dad into the basement stairs over there.”
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Elena followed the boy’s trembling finger. Fifty feet across the open warehouse floor, a heavy steel door marked with faded yellow hazard stripes stood slightly ajar, guarded by two men in dark tactical gear holding submachine guns.
***
