Chapter 8 - The Collapse of the Empire
"Brandon!" Patrick shouted from the shadows, stepping out with a tire iron. "Run!"
George Vance gasped, pulling a heavy revolver from his rain slicker, while my father charged around the side of the engine crane, swinging the crowbar with terrifying force.
The heavy steel bar smashed into the crane's iron frame right where my head had been a second earlier, sending bright sparks flying into the dark air.
I rolled across the slick concrete floor, scramble to my feet, and bolted toward the main office doors.
"Get him!" Walter screamed, his voice echoed violently through the echoing shop. "Don't let him out with that phone!"
I shoved open the office door, sprinted through the waiting room, and kicked open the front entrance, bursting into the pouring rain.
As I hit the gravel driveway, bright blue and red strobe lights suddenly illuminated the entire yard.
Four state police cruisers and two unmarked federal sedans screeched to a halt, surrounding the repair shop in a blinding perimeter of light. Loudspeakers blared over the sound of the roaring thunder:
"THIS IS THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION! PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND STEP OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"
George Vance burst out the side door, holding his revolver, but three armed FBI agents tackled him directly into the mud, slamming his face into the gravel and slapping heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists.
My father ran out behind him, holding the crowbar, his clothes soaked in rain, his eyes wild with disbelief.
Chloe stepped out from behind a police cruiser, holding her tablet, flanked by two senior state prosecutors.
"It's over, Walter," Chloe called out through the rain, her voice ringing clear and strong. "We uploaded the video feed live to the State Attorney General's secure portal five minutes ago."
Walter dropped the crowbar. It clattered uselessly onto the wet gravel.
He turned his head slowly, looking at me. I stood twenty feet away, rain streaming down my face, holding the phone that contained every piece of evidence needed to put him away for the rest of his natural life.
"You..." Walter stammered, his voice breaking, his grand, terrifying persona collapsing into pitiful, broken pieces. "You betrayed your own father... your own blood..."
"You weren't a father, Walter," I said, my voice cutting through the noise of the rain and sirens. "You were a tyrant. And this family is done taking your orders."
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Two federal agents stepped up behind Walter, pulled his arms behind his back, and clicked the handcuffs into place.
As they dragged him toward the back of the police cruiser, my father looked up at the sky, screaming obscenities into the rain, while the blue lights reflected off the rusted equipment he had spent a lifetime using to torment the people who loved him.
