Chapter 10 - The Iron Vein
The sound of approaching engines rattled the rusted drainpipes of the alley. Thomas pulled Elena out of the trunk, supporting her weight as her legs buckled beneath her. She was losing blood from a deep laceration near her hairline, and she couldn't run.
""We can't stay on the street,"" Thomas said, scanning the narrow passage. ""They’ll box us in before we reach the main road.""
""Where do we go?"" Elena breathed, leaning heavily against his shoulder while holding Leo tight against her collarbone. ""Vance owns the local towing companies. He probably has the highway monitored.""
""The old rail spur,"" Thomas said, his mind mapping out the town he had memorized over six years of hiding. ""Behind the flour mill. There’s an abandoned switching station that connects to the industrial freight line. Trains slow down to three miles an hour on the sharp curve behind the silo.""
They moved quickly, slipping through the maze of wooden privacy fences that separated the downtown shops from the industrial rail district. Thomas supported Elena with one arm around her waist while carrying Leo on his other hip. The child had grown completely quiet again, pressing his face into the hollow of Thomas's shoulder, sensing the sheer peril closing in around them.
Behind them, the sharp screech of tires sounded on Main Street, followed by the heavy slam of car doors. Shouted commands cut through the afternoon air.
""Search the alleys! Cross isn't answering his radio! Kill anyone who gets between you and the woman!""
They reached the rusted chain-link fence bordering the mill yard. Thomas used his pocketknife to pry back a loose section of wire mesh, creating an opening just wide enough to squeeze through. He pushed Elena through first, then passed Leo into her arms before forcing his own broad frame through the gap, tearing his shirt against the sharp zinc wire.
Across the gravel yard, the long, rhythmic blare of a train horn shattered the air.
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A westbound freight train was rumbling slowly along the curved track, fifty heavy steel cars hauling grain and lumber. It was their only ghost ship out of this town.
But between them and the tracks stood a hundred yards of open, sunlit gravel—and from the far gate of the mill, two armed men in black jackets had just stepped into view.
