Chapter 8 - The Abandoned Warehouse
The car coasted to a halt against a ditch beside an industrial harbor. Ron kicked the driver-side door open, finding the older man completely lifeless. Leo stood in the ditch, rain washing the fresh blood from his ear, his white gi soaked in mud and crimson. The toddler didn't cry. He seemed locked in a trance of survival, staring out into the rusted shipyard ahead.
""We need shelter,"" Ron gasped, wrapping his own jacket around the bleeding boy. ""We can't stay on the road. They have eyes in the sky.""
Leo pointed a tiny finger toward an old, rusted grain elevator at the edge of the pier. ""Grandpa's safehouse,"" the toddler murmured. ""He said if the ring came, go to the grain.""
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They trudged through the mud, cold and shivering, until they reached the hollow skeleton of the industrial compound. Inside, the wind howled through broken sheet metal. Ron collapsed against an old forklift, his strength rapidly failing him. He was out of breath, bruised, and terrified beyond measure. ""Leo... who was your grandfather?"" Ron asked, his voice cracking with exhaustion.
Leo walked over to a rotting wooden crate, kicked the side panel with impossible force, and shattered it to reveal a locked steel briefcase. ""He was the Director,"" Leo whispered. ""And they killed him because he made me.""
