68 Echoes of a Forgotten Vow: The Surgeon, the Secret Child, and the Blood-Red Dawn

The van accelerated with a terrifying, whining roar, charging straight toward the roadblock like a wild animal cornered in a cage.

"Hold on!" Vance bellowed over the screaming engine.

I curled into a ball on the floor, throwing my arms over my head and squeezing my eyes shut. Beside me, my cardboard box tipped over, spilling Lily, Luna, and my plastic tea cups across the rubber matting.

Bang! Bang!

The sharp, deafening cracks of rifle fire shattered the side windows of the van. Glass rained down around us like jagged diamonds, sparkling in the dim red light. One of the bullets punched cleanly through the metal side panel only inches from where Mommy was lying unconscious on the cot.

"Mommy!" I screamed, covering my ears.

Brenda threw her body across the cot, shielding Mommy with her own torso while yelling curses at the front cab.

Vance didn't flinch. At the last possible second, he wrenched the steering wheel hard to the left, mounting the concrete curb of the bridge with a violent, bone-shaking jolt. The van scraped aggressively along the bridge's suspension cables, showering sparks across the asphalt, before clearing the roadblock by a matter of inches and hurtling down the open span of the bridge toward the county line.

Through the shattered side window, I watched the black SUV grow smaller and smaller in the distance until it vanished behind a concrete pillar.

The van sped on, the engine coughing slightly from the strain, but the immediate gunfire had stopped.

Silence descended on the back compartment again, broken only by the sound of my own ragged breathing and the steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor attached to Mommy’s arm.

I picked up Lily from the floor, brushing a piece of broken safety glass off her golden hair, and clutched her tightly to my chest.

"We made it," Brenda whispered, her voice shaking as she checked Mommy's pulse and adjusted the IV drip. "We made it across the river."

But as I looked down at Mommy's pale face, I knew in my heart that we hadn't really escaped anything. We were leaving the city, yes. We were crossing county lines, yes. But Matthew was still back there—alone, in a burning building, fighting an army of ghosts from a past we had tried so hard to outrun.

And then, softly, a low moan escaped Mommy's lips.

Her eyelids fluttered.