Chapter 4 - The Pursuit across the Ridge
The heavy diesel engine of Dana's truck rumbled softly as she navigated the unpaved, winding logging routes that snaked through the dense pine forests of the Appalachian foothills. Rain had begun to fall—a cold, torrential downpour that turned the red clay roads into slick, treacherous mud.
In the back seat, Dr. Marsh monitored the twins by the dim glow of a battery-powered heart monitor. "Ben's oxygen saturation is ninety-six percent," she reported quietly. "Eli is taking his formula. They are fighting, Dana. Just like their sister."
Molly sat staring out the passenger window into the pitch-black woods. Her small hands were wrapped tightly around her mother's ledger.
"Molly," Dana said softly, keeping her eyes glued to the dark, muddy road ahead. "Are you okay?"
"Mama told me that granddad was a bad man," Molly said, her voice small and clear. "She said he built his house on screams. I didn't know what she meant until tonight."
"He can't hurt you now, sweetie," Dana assured her.
"He found us three weeks ago," Molly whispered suddenly.
Dana's breath hitched. She glanced sideways at the child. "What do you mean?"
"A man came to our cabin three weeks ago while Mama was having the babies," Molly continued, her eyes fixed on the rain-streaked windshield. "He talked to Mama through the door. He said if she didn't give him the red book, he would make sure the doctor in town never came out to help her. That's why Mama had to give birth to Ben and Eli all by herself on the bedroom floor."
A cold rage surged through Dana's veins. Victoria Sterling hadn't died simply from medical complications; she had been systematically isolated and left to die in the woods by her own father's operatives.
Suddenly, a pair of bright, blinding halogen headlights erupted in Dana's rearview mirror.
A heavy black SUV burst out from a side logging trail fifty yards behind them, its tires spinning wildly in the mud as it accelerated to close the gap.
"Dana!" Dr. Marsh gasped from the back seat, bracing herself against the incubators. "They found us!"
"Hold on!" Dana yelled, slamming her foot onto the accelerator.
The truck jolted forward, its heavy tires throwing up torrents of thick mud as it roared up the steep incline of Miller's Ridge. The black SUV behind them didn't slow down; it surged forward, its reinforced steel bumper aiming directly for the truck's rear tailgate.
"They're trying to ram us!" Dr. Marsh screamed.
"He doesn't care about the truck—he just wants the ledger!" Dana shouted, wrestling with the heavy steering wheel as the truck slid sideways along the edge of a steep ravine.
Through the blinding rain, Dana saw the old wooden covered bridge over Cedar Creek approaching—a historic, narrow structure that had been closed to heavy commercial traffic for decades.
"The bridge can't hold their heavy SUV!" Dana yelled. "Brace yourselves!"
Dana slammed the truck into second gear, driving straight into the narrow wooden mouth of the covered bridge. The heavy oak floorboards creaked and groaned beneath the truck's weight, but the vehicle burst through to the far side safely.
Behind them, the black SUV attempted to follow, its heavy armored frame plowing onto the rotting wooden planks.
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A deafening sound of splintering timber echoed through the valley. The ancient wooden floor of the bridge gave way under the massive weight of the armored SUV. The vehicle plunged twenty feet down into the roaring, rain-swollen waters of Cedar Creek below, swallowed almost instantly by the muddy current.
Dana didn't stop to look back. She slammed the truck into high gear, driving fast into the rain toward the safety of the interstate.
