Chapter 4 - The Closed Road
Leo’s stomach tightened. The veterinary hospital on Main Street was the only clinic open past five on a Sunday. If the north bridge was cut off, the alternate route wound up through the foothills—a steep, forty-minute detour on a bicycle in torrential rain. The two kittens beneath the crate were growing weaker; their tiny cries were fading into raspy, shallow breaths.
""Is there another crossing?"" Leo asked, gently scooping the two freezing kittens into the pockets of his jacket, balancing the weight.
The man shook his head. ""None that’ll take a bike. Footpaths through the ravine are slick mud. You’ll break an ankle."" He paused, looking Leo up and down. ""You got a phone?""
Leo reached into his pocket and pulled out his device. The screen remained pitch black. Water had seeped past the silicone seal during the downpour. It was completely dead.
""Come inside the house,"" the old man grunted, turning toward a battered white farmhouse across the weed-choked yard. ""Landline’s working. You can call someone with a truck.""
Leo hesitated. He looked down at Copper, whose tail gave a cautious wag, sensing the tension easing.
""Thank you, sir,"" Leo said.
They stepped out into the biting wind. The old man walked with a heavy limp, leading them toward the porch. As Leo reached the foot of the wooden steps, Copper suddenly froze again, spinning his head toward the overgrown ditch lining the gravel driveway.
The dog let out a sharp, urgent yelp, dropping his nose to the mud.
May you like
Leo stopped. ""Copper, what is it now?""
The dog began to dig furiously into the debris of rotting pine branches clogging the drainage culvert. Beneath the brush, something silver and reflective gleamed under the gray light—a dented metal license plate, attached to a submerged bumper buried deep in the mud.
