Chapter 6 - The Crash on Highway 65
The world erupted into a deafening roar of tearing metal, shattering glass, and screaming tires.
The heavy Suburban spun twice on the slick asphalt, its broad side slamming against the rusted metal guardrail with a sound like a bomb going off. Sparks showered through the dark rain as the guardrail buckled under the six-thousand-pound vehicle's momentum.
"DADDY!" Emily shrieked, her tiny arms flailing wildly as the seatbelts locked tight.
I threw my entire body over her, pinning her small frame against the leather seat, absorbing the crushing force of the impact with my back and shoulders. Pain exploded across my spine as the vehicle finally flipped onto its side, sliding thirty feet down a muddy embankment before crashing violently against the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree.
Then... absolute, suffocating silence.
The only sounds remaining were the hiss of steam escaping from the ruptured radiator, the patter of heavy rain hitting the overturned undercarriage, and the faint, weak groaning of Sergeant Miller in the front passenger seat.
The smell of gasoline and hot oil filled the overturned cabin.
"Emily..." I gasped, my lungs burning, my left shoulder screaming in agony. "Emily... baby... are you okay?"
"Daddy..." she sobbed, trapped beneath my chest, her body shaking violently but unharmed. "I’m scared... I’m scared!"
"I’ve got you," I wheezed, pushing myself up against the crumpled ceiling. "I’ve got you."
Up front, Detective Vance was coughing through a cloud of white airbag dust. Blood trickled from a deep gash near her hairline, but her eyes were sharp, filled with adrenaline. She was already unbuckling her seatbelt, reaching for her service weapon lodged near the steering wheel.
"Miller! Talk to me!" Vance barked, kicking her door open with a heavy thud.
Miller didn't answer. He was unconscious, his head resting awkwardly against the shattered passenger window, blood dripping from his nose.
"He’s alive, but he’s out cold!" Vance shouted, crawling out through her broken driver's door into the mud and rain. "Michael! Get Emily out through the rear hatch! NOW!"
I didn't hesitate. I kicked out the fractured glass of the rear window with my boots, clearing the jagged edges with my jacket. I grabbed Emily under her arms, lifting her carefully out through the back of the wrecked SUV into the pouring rain. The mud was ankle-deep, the storm howling through the surrounding pine trees like a dying beast.
Above us, at the top of the embankment on the highway shoulder, a heavy car door slammed shut.
The beam of a high-powered tactical flashlight cut through the dark rain, sweeping down the muddy slope until it locked directly onto me and Emily.
Standing at the top of the ridge, outlined against the dark sky, was Jason.
He was holding a long, heavy hunting rifle in his left hand, and in his right, he carried the black iron box he had stolen from the cabin. Rain poured off his grey work jacket, his face illuminated by the harsh white light of his flashlight.
"Michael!" Jason’s voice boomed down the embankment, carrying easily over the roar of the wind. "Give me the girl and the locket! You don't have to die down there in the mud!"
"Go to hell!" I roared back, stepping in front of Emily, placing my body between her and the barrel of his rifle.
"I tried to make this easy for everyone," Jason called down, stepping slowly down the slippery mud slope, his heavy boots digging into the earth. "Sarah didn't listen. She thought she could take the money and leave me. She thought she was smart. Don't make the same mistake she did, Michael."
Behind a nearby pine tree, Detective Vance raised her 9mm service weapon with both hands, taking a tactical stance despite the blood running down her face.
"STATE POLICE! DROP THE WEAPON, JASON!" Vance screamed over the storm.
Jason didn't even look at her.
He raised the rifle with frightening speed and fired a single shot.
CRACK!
The sharp muzzle flash illuminated the dark woods for a fraction of a second. The high-caliber bullet struck the tree right above Vance’s head, showering her with bark and pine needles, forcing her to dive into the mud for cover.
Jason took three more steps down the slope, stopping just ten feet away from me and Emily. The beam of his flashlight hit Emily’s face. She let out a tiny, terrified whimpering sound, burying her face into the side of my wet jacket.
"Look at her," Jason sneered, his eyes hollow, wild, and completely unhinged. "She looks just like her mother. Pathetic. Weak. Clinging to men who can't protect them."
He held up the black iron box. "Give me the locket, Michael. Give it to me, or I swear to God I’ll put a bullet through your knee and take it off her cold body."
My hands shook, my heart hammering against my ribs like a sledgehammer. My left arm was nearly useless from the crash, my body battered and exhausted. I looked down at Emily, then at the steel key tucked inside the silver heart around her neck.
And then, I realized something.
Jason wasn't looking at the woods. He wasn't looking at Vance. He was so completely consumed by his own greed, so blind with power, that he had walked straight into the one trap he hadn't planned for.
"You want the key, Jason?" I asked, my voice suddenly dropping into a steady, cold monotone.
He grinned, a hideous, wet smile in the dark. "Throw it up here."
I reached slowly into Emily’s scrub top, unhooked the silver chain from around her neck, and held the heart-shaped locket up in the rain, the tiny steel key gleaming beneath his flashlight beam.
May you like
"Here it is," I said.
And then, with all the remaining strength in my right arm, I turned and threw the locket into the black, churning waters of the flooded creek raging at the bottom of the ravine fifty feet away.
