Chapter 7 - The Crossfire of Memory
“Don't you dare look at him,” I snarled, taking a reckless step forward, putting my body directly between Mark’s line of sight and the rental car.
Mark didn't flinch. The suppressor didn't waver an inch. His eyes remained fixed on me, cold and clinical, like a surgeon evaluating a diseased tissue he was about to excise.
“You’re a brave kid, Leo,” Mark murmured, his thumb resting lightly on the safety switch of the pistol. “Just like your old man. Always stepping up to take a hit you can't survive. But bravery doesn't stop lead.”
Behind me, the back door of the rental car creaked open.
“Leo?” Ethan’s small, trembling voice called out into the yard. The car door clicked against the frame, followed by the soft padding of stocking feet hitting the gravel driveway. “Leo, what’s going on? Who’s that man?”
“Stay in the car, Ethan!” Caroline screamed, her voice cracking with absolute terror as she looked wildly between the armed man and her youngest son. “Don't look outside! Get down on the floor!”
“Too late for hide-and-seek, Mrs. Hayes,” Mark said smoothly. He didn't turn around, but his stance shifted, widening his base as he adjusted his aim.
My mind raced through options at a manic, impossible speed. I had nothing. No weapon, no cover, just an open lawn and a man who had spent six years pretending to be our neighbor while harboring the soul of an executioner. If I charged him, I’d be dead before I took three steps. If I stayed still, we were all at his mercy.
And then, from the dark perimeter of the property near the overgrown oak tree, a sharp, metallic clatter broke the tension.
Clang.
It sounded like a heavy iron pipe hitting the concrete drainage ditch at the edge of the property line.
Mark’s head whipped toward the dark shadows of the oak tree. The distraction was micro-second short, but it was all the opening the universe was going to grant us.
“Run!” I screamed, diving sideways and tackling Mark around the waist with every ounce of fury and despair I had stored up over six years of silence.
We hit the damp turf together in a tangle of limbs. The suppressed pistol discharged into the dirt with a muffled, wet thump, kicking up a cloud of black soil and grass clippings that showered over my face.
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“Get Ethan and run to the highway!” I yelled at the top of my lungs as Mark swung his heavy elbow backward, catching me squarely in the ribs with bone-crushing force.
Air exploded from my lungs in a sharp gasp. The world spun sideways into a dizzying blur of white headlights and spinning stars.
