Chapter 11 - The Struggle in the Mud
Mark didn't hesitate. Driven by pure survival instinct, he surged forward, driving his shoulder straight into Julian’s midsection.
Both men spilled out of the open rear doors of the van, tumbling down the muddy incline into the dark creek bed below. Cold water rushed over Mark’s boots as they collided against the rocks. Julian was older, but he was wiry and desperate. He swung the heavy pistol, the steel barrel catching Mark across the jaw, sending a flash of white pain through his skull.
Mark staggered back into the shallow stream, tasting iron. Julian scrambled to his feet, bringing the weapon up to fire again.
"You should have stayed in the suburbs, Mark!" Julian snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Mark didn't back down. He scooped a handful of coarse river gravel and water, hurling it straight into Julian’s face. The grit struck the lawyer’s eyes. Julian cried out, his shot going wide and splintering a birch tree behind Mark.
Closing the distance in a fraction of a second, Mark grabbed Julian’s wrist with both hands, twisting it violently downward against a boulder. The pistol splashed harmlessly into the dark, rushing current of the creek, swept away beneath the rocks.
Julian threw a desperate punch, but Mark dodged it, countering with a brutal right cross that snapped Julian’s head back. The lawyer collapsed into the muddy bank, gasping for air, his pristine designer coat soaked in silt and icy water.
Mark pinned him down, forearm pressed against Julian's throat. "It's over, Julian. It's over."
Julian choked out a bitter laugh, rain washing the mud from his bruised face. "You think... you won? Look up at the road, Mark. Look who brought me here."
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Mark wiped the rain from his eyes and looked up through the bare trees toward the highway.
Parked directly behind his own idling truck on the shoulder was Arthur Sterling’s black town car. Standing by the guardrail under a black umbrella, looking down into the ravine with cold, calculating detachment, was his father.
