24
A FTER BEN FELT a bullet rip through above his right collar bone, Walt grabbed him and dragged him beneath the front deck. As bullets ricocheted around them, Walt pulled away a fake front. Walt grabbed his rifle, tossed it through the hole, and ordered Ben to move. Ben pushed himself through the opening and fell to the floor of the cellar. The cellar glowed thanks to a gas lantern on the work table.
Walt grabbed the lantern and a small sack beside it. “Grace’s final sacrifice,” he said with no emotion. “She’ll be remembered.”
Ben ignored the warm blood rolling down his chest or the throbbing pain in his chest as Walt handed him the lantern, removed bolt cutters from the sack and proceeded to break the chain on the metal escape door’s handle. When the chain snapped, Walt gave a simple order.
“Move.”
The earthen tunnel was not wide enough for two men to run abreast. Walt told Ben to keep the lantern and take point. They sprinted. Weapons fire disappeared. Ben’s amazement grew the farther they ran. He felt the tunnel shifting upward, matching the local topography if headed inland. They ran for five minutes before reaching the end. A metal ladder greeted them, leaning against the tunnel’s face, its top rung only a couple feet beneath a door. Or so Ben thought.
Walt set down his rifle and the sack then ascended the ladder. He braced his head against what Ben now realized was a sheet of wood. The hulk of a man spread both hands and heaved. He grunted as he forced the wood away from the opening, which was no bigger than the fake front on the lake house. Walt backed down halfway and ordered Ben to hand him the lantern and sack.
Ben saw stars in a clear sky. When he rose to his feet, he was lost. They were in the woods, surrounded by low brush.
“This way,” Walt said, motioning them forward.
Ben stared out at Lake Vernon, still cast in darkness. However, the first pale inkling of dawn emerged from beyond the eastern shore. What got Ben’s attention, however, was the familiar roar of a helicopter. He glanced off to his right then down through an opening in the trees. The chopper that shot up the lake house hovered, its searchlight a narrow, evil beam. Ben saw part of the house, though most of it was shrouded behind trees.
Walt reached into the sack and removed a metallic device with a single red button in the center. Ben recognized it immediately.
“So much for the quiet life,” Walt said before extending an antenna.
That’s when he pressed the button.
Ben shielded his eyes at the initial blast. When he lowered his arm, he saw a yellow glow where the lake house once stood. A few flames rose as high as the trees. Thunder cracked all around, and Ben felt the concussion. His jaw dropped.
“Holy mother …” he whispered. “What the hell did you use?”
“Enough to do the job.”
Walt revealed a pair of binoculars, yet another goodie from the sack of surprises. The giant man turned his attention away from the former lake house and focused the lenses east. The helicopter was flying erratically, no doubt impacted by the force of the explosion. It spun, the searchlight rotating like a lighthouse beacon. In seconds, however, the helicopter stabilized and returned to a position above the fiery ruins, no doubt scanning for survivors.
“Time to move,” Walt said, dropping the binoculars around his neck and turning. He raced back through the woods, not bothering to ask whether Ben planned to follow. They ran past the tunnel entry, where Walt snagged the lantern. “This way.”
“Give me a clue, Walt. What’s the plan? How did you know …?”
The lantern’s light fell upon the answer. They passed through the brush into a clearing that Ben first took to be a hiking trail. He didn’t need long to realize this was too wide and well-managed. A one-lane road disappeared to his left down a gentle slope. Moreover, Ben couldn’t believe what he saw to his right. A wood-plank structure looked to be a storage shed, but its isolation made no sense. The road ended here, as if at a cabin. Walt dropped the lantern beside the door, took out his keys, and opened the lock.
“This is yours, too?” Ben asked. “You own …”
“Yes,” Walt said, his sigh of annoyance obvious. He opened the double doors and shone the light on a black SUV. “Time to go, Sheridan.”
“But … Huggins, where are we gonna go? Huh? We just gonna keep running? We don’t even know where Jamie and Sammie are, or if they’re even alive.”
Walt produced a smile that unnerved Ben.
“As a matter of fact, we do,” he said.
In that moment, Ben realized everything he thought he knew about Walt Huggins amounted to less than nothing.
25
T HE EXPLOSION SENT a flash across the lake and down the shoreline. It lasted slightly longer than a lightning bolt, but the rumble that followed was more pronounced. The earth trembled beneath Jamie and Sammie, and they almost lost hold of Michael. They froze.
“Dad. Mom.”
Sammie wobbled, and Jamie thought she was going to faint. The yellow glow above the treetops hypnotized him as well, and he was sure that any hope of Ben’s survival was gone. Jamie believed no one would be coming after him. His mission focused on a single cause.
“Get Michael to the boat. We’re the only ones who can save him.”
He cast the flashlight upon her. She was dazed but not sobbing. Jamie couldn’t stand around waiting for her confusion to clear up.
“Maybe …” she muttered.
