Chapter 12 - Bloodhound in the Woods
The cellar smelled of damp stone, old cedar, and decades of damp earth.
Candace held Leo securely against her chest with one arm, using her free hand to guide Vanessa down the slick wooden steps. The only illumination came from the faint glow of Candace’s phone screen, kept dim to avoid casting light through the high, street-level cellar windows.
Above their heads, the heavy crash of an iron pry bar striking the front door reverberated through the floorboards.
*THUD. CRACK.*
The sound sent a tremor through Vanessa, who stifled a scream by pressing both palms hard against her mouth.
“Keep moving,” Candace ordered in a low, ruthless whisper.
She reached the far wall of the basement where the slanted bilco doors led out to the backyard. The rusted barrel bolt was stiff. Candace handed her phone to Vanessa. “Hold this. Point it at the bolt. Don't shake.”
Using a heavy steel pipe wrench from her father’s old workbench, Candace struck the rusted latch. The iron groaned, then gave way with a sharp pop.
Upstairs, the sound of splintering oak echoed through the house. The front door had been breached. Heavy, tactical footsteps pounded across the foyer hardwood right above them.
*“Clear the downstairs!”* a harsh, gravelly voice barked from above. *“Check the kitchen! Find the woman and the kid! If she fights, put one in her leg!”*
Candace pushed open the metal storm doors. The freezing autumn rain immediately poured into the opening, pelting their faces. Candace climbed out into the mud, shielding Leo beneath her heavy waxed jacket. The infant whimpered at the sudden shock of cold air, but Candace gently rocked him, pressing his cheek to her chest until he quieted.
She reached down and pulled Vanessa up into the storm.
Behind them, inside the darkened house, a flashlight beam swept across the open basement stairs.
*“Hey! The cellar door is open! They went out back!”*
“Run,” Candace breathed.
They bolted into the dense cover of the hemlocks. The ground was slick with rotting pine needles and thick mud, threatening to pull off their shoes with every step. Candace knew this terrain like the back of her hand; she had spent her childhood summers running these hills before her father had deeded the property to her. She knew that three hundred yards east, hidden behind a thick wall of overgrown wild blackberries, lay an old tractor shed where an ancient Subaru Outback sat under a tarp.
Branches whipped against Candace’s face, leaving stinging scratches across her cheeks, but she kept Leo shielded within her coat. Vanessa struggled behind her, slipping and falling hard onto her knees in the mud.
“I can’t—Candace, I can't breathe!” Vanessa gasped, clutching her ankle.
Candace turned back, grabbed Vanessa’s collar with furious strength, and yanked her upright. “You dragged this filth to my doorstep, Vanessa. You don't get to quit now. Get on your feet, or I will leave you here for them!”
Fear worked better than sympathy. Vanessa scrambled up, sobbing silently, and pushed forward through the brambles.
Behind them, through the roar of the gale, the sound of a sharp whistle cut through the trees. A high-powered flashlight beam began slicing through the black canopy of the forest behind them, illuminating the dancing rain like millions of falling glass needles.
The enforcers had entered the woods.
Candace reached the tractor shed. The corrugated tin roof rattled violently under the deluge. She slid the rusted barn door open just enough for them to squeeze through. Inside, the dry smell of motor oil and straw provided a moment of surreal shelter.
Candace peeled back the canvas tarp covering the old wagon. Her father had kept it maintained until his final days, and Candace had made sure it had a full tank of treated gasoline for winter emergencies.
She opened the back door, settled Leo into the car seat that had remained installed from the previous month, and strapped him in tightly. Leo looked up at her with huge, frightened eyes, sensing the danger.
“I love you, baby,” she whispered, kissing his forehead. “Mama is taking us away.”
She hopped into the driver's seat. Vanessa threw herself into the passenger side, locking her door instantly.
Candace reached under the steering column, felt for the magnetic lockbox her father always kept hidden above the pedals, and retrieved the spare brass key.
Outside, a flashlight beam struck the dusty windows of the shed.
*“Over here! The shed!”* a man yelled from less than thirty yards away.
Candace turned the key.
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The starter groaned once, twice—and then the boxer engine roared to life with a throaty rumble. Candace slammed the transmission into reverse, dropped her foot on the accelerator, and smashed straight through the rotting wooden double doors of the barn, launching the car backward into the muddy logging trail as gunfire shattered the rear glass.
***
