Chapter 5 - Ticking Clock
"Turn it off! Turn it off!" Toby screamed, tossing the phone onto the floor as if it had caught fire.
"It doesn't matter if you turn it off," I continued, keeping my tone perfectly flat, playing the psychological game of my life. "The cloud cache uploads every three seconds. You have maybe twenty minutes before the state police blockade the state line."
Marcus let go of Brenda. She collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air, clutching her bruised neck. Marcus took two steps back, his mind wildly calculating options.
"Toby, get the bolt cutters," Marcus ordered, his voice strained. "We aren't leaving her here to talk. We cut the chain from the wall, throw her in the back of the pickup, and dump her in the river twenty miles out. No body, no crime."
"Marcus, that’s crazy!" Toby yelled back. "The rain outside is turning the dirt roads into mud! The truck will get stuck!"
"Do it!" Marcus screamed, pulling his own knife from his belt.
Toby ran out of the room down toward the workshop. Marcus knelt in front of me, the silver blade of his hunting knife catching the harsh overhead light. He pressed the flat edge of the blade against my cheek. The cold steel felt like ice against my feverish skin.
"You think you’re smart, don't you?" Marcus sneered, his breath hot and sour. "You think because you played some digital trick, you get to walk away? You’re weak. You’re broken. You drank out of a toilet to stay alive."
I looked directly into his bloodshot eyes, feeling no fear—only a profound, terrifying calm.
"I didn't drink to survive for myself," I whispered, leaning slightly closer to the blade, forcing him to hold it steady. "I drank to keep my child alive. That makes me stronger than anything you will ever be. You’re just a coward who needs a chain to make himself feel like a man."
Marcus’s face contorted in rage. He raised his hand to strike me with the butt of the knife.
CLANG!
A loud, metallic smash echoed from the hallway, followed by a heavy thud and the sound of shattering glass.
"Toby?" Marcus called out, turning his head toward the open doorway. "Toby, what the hell are you doing?"
No answer came from the hall. Only the sound of heavy, dragging footsteps approaching the door.
May you like
Brenda, still lying near the threshold, looked down the dark corridor. Her eyes dilated with absolute horror.
"Marcus..." Brenda whimpered, backing away on her hands and knees. "That’s not Toby."
