Chapter 7 - The Sanctuary in the Pines
They drove north for two hours, sticking to dark, winding secondary roads to evade toll-booth plate scanners. The glimmering lights of Westchester faded into the dense, black silhouettes of the Hudson Valley pine forests.
Clara slipped in and out of consciousness, her forehead burning with a sudden low-grade fever. Julian monitored her pulse with growing terror, wiping her brow with a damp handkerchief while Marcus navigated by paper maps.
Just before 3:00 AM, the SUV turned down an unmarked gravel road shrouded by overgrown hemlocks. At the end stood a modest, single-story timber cottage, its windows dark except for a single amber light glowing in the basement cellar.
Before the engine had fully cooled, the front door swung open. A man stepped onto the porch holding a heavy lantern. He was in his late sixties, with a shock of untamed white hair, severe stooped posture, and a face carved by years of exile and regret.
Dr. Jonathan Vance.
Julian helped Clara out of the vehicle. When the old doctor saw them, the lantern shook slightly in his hand.
"Julian," Jonathan said, his voice gravelly and worn like river stones. "I prayed you would never have to learn what kind of man your father is."
May you like
"Help her," Julian begged, his pride entirely gone. "She’s burning up. Her legs are infected."
"Bring her inside," Jonathan commanded, stepping aside. "The basement is clean. I have medical supplies. Hurry."
