Chapter 11 - Across the Open Gravel
""Freeze!"" one of the men shouted, raising a semi-automatic rifle.
Thomas didn't hesitate. He grabbed Elena by the arm and shoved her toward the shadow of a massive concrete grain silo just as the first shot cracked through the yard. The high-velocity round sparked violently off a steel rail tie near their feet, sending sharp gravel flying against Thomas's jeans.
""Run for the ladder!"" Thomas shouted, positioning himself directly between the gunmen and his family.
Elena ran with staggering, desperate steps, clutching Leo to her chest. The little boy tucked his head down, burying his face into her torn blouse, his knuckles white around the grease-stained wax paper of the pastry he still refused to drop.
A second shot punched through the metal siding of the silo with a deafening thwack.
Thomas drew the pistol he had taken from Julian. He leaned out from behind the concrete pillar, steadied his breathing, and fired three rapid shots toward the shooters. One bullet struck the lead gunman in the thigh, sending him sprawling into the gravel; the second gunman ducked instinctively behind a forklift, breaking his line of sight for three crucial seconds.
""Keep moving!"" Thomas yelled, catching up to Elena.
They reached the base of the slowing freight train. The massive iron wheels groaned and sparked against the steel rails, throwing off the smell of hot friction and diesel exhaust. A green boxcar with an open sliding cargo door was rolling past at a steady walking pace.
""Give me Leo!"" Thomas ordered.
Elena handed the boy up. Thomas hoisted Leo into the dark interior of the boxcar, then turned to help Elena. He grabbed her hands, bracing his feet against the moving gravel ballast. ""Jump on three! One, two, three!""
With a ragged scream of pain, Elena kicked off the ground as Thomas pulled with all his strength. She cleared the wooden threshold and collapsed onto the straw-strewn floor of the car.
Thomas reached up to grab the iron handle to hoist himself aboard.
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A sharp, searing heat ripped through his right shoulder. The impact threw him off balance, spinning him around on the gravel bed. He dropped to his knees, his vision flashing white hot, the roar of the moving train filling his ears like thunder.
From behind the forklift, the second gunman was aiming a final, fatal shot.
