The Loading Dock

The loading dock was a cavern of concrete and cold air, smelling of diesel and rot. Elena ran toward the bay doors, her footsteps slapping wetly against the stained floor. The truck she had stolen was parked at a crazy angle near the entrance, engine ticking as it cooled. But the dock itself was empty.

Save for the van.

It was pulling away, the black paint gleaming under the sodium lights. The rear doors were slammed shut, the license plate obscured by mud.

"No!" Elena screamed, her voice cracking.

She sprinted. She didn't think about the gun, or the guards, or the fact that she was wearing a torn velvet dress and no shoes. She just ran.

The van accelerated, tires squealing on the concrete. It hit the ramp, bouncing hard, and shot out into the night.

Elena reached the edge of the dock. She jumped.

She landed on the asphalt below, her knees buckling, skin scraping raw against the gravel. She ignored the pain. She scrambled up and ran for the truck.

She threw herself into the cab. The key was still in the ignition.

She turned it. The engine sputtered, coughed, and died.

"Come on," she begged, slamming her hand against the wheel. "Please."

She tried again.

The engine roared to life.

She slammed it into gear and floored the gas. The truck lurched forward, fishtailing on the wet road.

She saw the taillights of the van ahead, disappearing around a curve in the mountain road. They were heading up. Toward the pass. Toward the old mining roads that led nowhere.

Arthur wasn't going back to the estate. He wasn't going to the airport.

He was going to a dumping ground.

Elena pushed the truck harder. The speedometer climbed. 60. 70. 80. The old suspension groaned, protesting every dip and turn.

She gained on them. The taillights grew brighter. She could see the silhouette of the driver in the rearview mirror. It was the suit from the elevator.

And in the passenger seat, Arthur.

He turned. He saw her headlights.

She saw him reach for something. A gun.

He leaned out the window.

*Crack.*

The windshield shattered. Spiderwebs of glass bloomed in front of her face.

Elena ducked, keeping her foot on the gas.

*Crack. Crack.*

Bullets pinged off the hood. One punched through the radiator, sending a plume of steam hissing into the night air.

"You won't stop me!" she screamed, though he couldn't hear her.

She rammed the back of the van.

*Crunch.*

The impact threw her forward against the steering wheel. The van swerved, correcting violently.

Elena hit them again. Harder this time.

The van skidded toward the guardrail. Beyond it was a drop of three hundred feet into the rocky gorge below.

The driver fought the wheel. He overcorrected.

The van spun. It slid sideways across the road, tires smoking.

It slammed into the rock face on the other side.

The engine died.

Elena slammed on her brakes, the truck sliding to a halt twenty feet away.

Silence.

No movement from the van.

Elena kicked open her door. She grabbed the heavy flashlight from the seat. She ran.

The back doors of the van were dented, the lock twisted.

She pulled on the handle. It was jammed.

"Leo!" she shouted. "Sophie!"

She heard a whimper from inside.

She smashed the window with the flashlight. She reached in, unlocking the door from the inside.

She threw it open.

The interior was a mess of tumbled bodies and equipment.

Leo was strapped to a bench seat, still unconscious. Sophie was next to him, crying, her face buried in his chest.

And on the floor, huddled in a ball, was a man in a hospital gown.

Sebastian.

He looked up at her. His eyes were wide, terrified. He looked exactly like Julian. Exactly like the husband who had just died on a cold concrete floor to save them.

"Help us," he whispered.

Elena climbed in. She unbuckled Leo. She grabbed Sophie.

"Come on," she said to Sebastian. "We have to go."

"Arthur," Sebastian said, pointing to the front.

Elena looked.

Arthur was slumped over the dashboard, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. But his hand was moving. He was reaching for the gun on the floor mat.

Elena didn't hesitate. She grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall bracket.

She climbed over the seat.

Arthur looked up, his eyes glassy but filled with hate.

"You," he rasped.

Elena swung the extinguisher.

It connected with his head with a dull thud.

Arthur slumped back, still.

Elena turned back to the children. "Out. Now."

She helped Sebastian down. He was weak, barely able to stand. She carried Leo. Sophie clung to her leg.

They stood on the side of the road, shivering in the wind. The truck was dead, steam still rising from the hood. The van was a wreck.

They were miles from anywhere.

"What do we do?" Sophie asked, her voice small.

Elena looked down the road. In the distance, she saw headlights. Not police. A single vehicle. A black sedan.

Arthur's backup? Or Rossi?

She gripped the flashlight tighter.

"We hide," she said.

She led them into the trees, away from the road. Away from the light.

They weren't killing him here. They were moving him.