Chapter 6 - The River Run
The storm showed no sign of letting up. Thunder rumbled continuously overhead, drowning out the sound of their footsteps as Ethan and Claire pushed through the dense undergrowth of Blackwood Gorge.
Ethan’s legs burned with exhaustion. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but the image of Richard standing over Detective Vance with that smoking gun kept driving him forward. Richard wasn't just a greedy stepfather; he was a methodical monster who had spent three years calculating this exact moment.
"Ethan, stay low," Claire commanded, dropping behind a massive fallen cedar trunk.
Ahead of them, the swollen waters of the Blackwood River roared violently through the ravine. The wooden footbridge that connected the hiking trails to the north shore had already collapsed under the rushing torrent, swept away by the flash flood.
Across the water, sitting on a high bluff overlooking the lake, stood the dark outline of the Parker family cabin.
"The bridge is gone," Ethan said, despair creeping into his voice. "We can't swim across that. It’ll drag us into the spillway."
Claire scanned the shoreline. Tied to an old dock mooring fifty yards upstream was an aluminum flat-bottom fishing boat, half-submerged in mud and swirling river debris.
Before they could move toward it, a high-powered rifle crack echoed across the gorge.
SNAP!
A bullet tore through the cedar log right where Ethan had been resting his hand, showering them with wood chips.
"Spread out! They're pinned by the riverbank!"
Richard’s voice cut through the sound of the rushing water. He emerged from the tree line sixty yards behind them, accompanied by two remaining armed operatives wearing night-vision goggles. Richard wasn't wearing his funeral suit anymore; he had thrown on a dark rain jacket, holding a semi-automatic tactical rifle with cold, practiced precision.
"Claire!" Richard shouted, his voice amplified through the narrow gorge. "Give me the locket! You don't have anywhere to go! You walk across that clearing with the drive, and I promise Ethan gets to live with his grandparents! You keep running, and I bury both of you in this river!"
"He's lying, Mom," Ethan whispered, his knuckles white against the mud. "He won't leave any witnesses."
"I know," Claire whispered back. "Ethan, listen to me very carefully. The boat has an outboard motor with a pull-cord. When I draw their fire, you sprint for the boat, untie the stern line, and pull the choke."
"No! I'm not leaving you!"
Claire grabbed his face with both hands, forcing him to look directly into her eyes. "You aren't leaving me. We are getting in that boat together. But someone has to distract that rifle scope for four seconds. Count to three, then run like hell."
Claire didn't wait for his answer. She stood up from behind the log, raising her hands high in the air.
"Richard! Stop shooting! I have the locket!" she screamed into the rain.
The flashlights instantly converged on her chest. Richard raised a hand, signaling his men to hold their fire. A cruel smile spread across his face as he stepped forward onto the open gravel bar.
"Smart girl," Richard said, lowering his rifle slightly. "Throw the chain over the log, Claire. Let’s end this ridiculous drama right now."
Claire reached into her coat pocket, pulled out the second stick of weeping gelignite she had saved from the shed, and struck a road flare against her thigh.
"Here's your payout, Richard," she yelled.
She hurled the blazing flare and the dynamite stick straight at the fuel tank of the contractor SUV parked fifty yards behind Richard’s line.
Richard’s eyes went wide. "Get down!"
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The explosion ripped through the fuel tank, sending a massive shockwave of fire and shrapnel across the clearing. The blast threw the two contractors off their feet and knocked Richard face-first into the gravel.
"Now, Ethan! GO!"
