Chapter 7 - The Crossing
Ethan broke into an all-out sprint, his sneakers tearing through the deep mud toward the aluminum fishing boat. The heat from the vehicle explosion scorched his back as secondary blasts from ammunition boxes in the burning SUV began to cook off in rapid, terrifying pops.
Claire was right behind him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. They hit the water together, cold mountain runoff shocking their skin as they piled over the aluminum gunwale.
"Untie the line!" Claire shouted, lunging for the outboard engine at the stern.
Ethan leaned over the bow, his freezing fingers fighting the swollen hemp knot tied around the iron dock ring. The rope was soaked, swollen tight as iron under the river's tension.
"I can't get it undone!" Ethan yelled over the roar of the rapids.
Behind them, through the wall of smoke and burning metal, Richard stumbled out of the flames. His face was scorched, his jacket shredded, but his eyes were pure venom. He raised his sidearm, taking aim at the boat.
Ethan reached into his pocket, whipped out the pry bar's sharpened flat edge, and sawed frantically at the taut rope against the dock's wooden edge. With a final, violent snap of frayed fibers, the rope broke.
The violent current instantly seized the boat, spinning it out into the center of the raging river.
BANG! BANG!
Bullets pinged off the aluminum hull, leaving jagged entry holes right above the water line. Claire yanked the engine pull-cord with all her strength.
The two-stroke motor sputtered, choked on water, and roared to life. Claire slammed the throttle forward, fighting the churning white-water rapids as the boat surged across the diagonal current toward the opposite shore.
Richard stood at the water's edge, his gun empty, the slide locked back. He threw the weapon into the river in pure rage and keyed his handheld satellite phone.
"Mercer," Richard snarled into the receiver. "They crossed the river. They're heading for the lake house. Seal the access road from the county side and get the local sheriff out here. Tell him Ethan had a psychotic break at the funeral, murdered his mother, and is barricaded in the cabin. Authorize lethal force on sight."
Out on the water, Ethan leaned against the vibrating hull, his hands trembling as he watched Richard’s silhouette shrink against the burning backdrop of the ridge.
Claire steered the boat into the calm, murky mouth of the lake inlet. She cut the engine, allowing the momentum to glide them silently into the reeds beneath the cabin's private boat dock.
"We have ten minutes before they circle the access road," Claire said, pulling Ethan onto the wooden pier. "We get to the study, plug the drive into the secure terminal, and let the broadcast run."
Ethan looked up at the large timber-frame house looming over the hill. The windows were pitch black, silent, and cold.
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As they reached the back porch, Ethan noticed something that made his stomach drop.
The heavy sliding glass door wasn't locked. In fact, it was standing wide open, gently rocking in the cold wind, with muddy size-eleven boot prints leading straight into the dark living room.
