The girls and the Explorer shrunk in the wing mirror. Mason handled the large steering wheel, navigating through the dark and the stream of smoke that emanated from the engine. Beside him, Marvin Wendell sat pointing a gun at his side.
“Where are we going?” Mason asked.
“You’ll see. Shut up and drive.”
They went for miles. It was a dark and lonely road. With time, he came to believe that he didn’t have to die tonight. His family was safe, and that was all he’d wanted, but if an opportunity arose to defend himself, Mason was sure going to take it.
“You know, I’ve waited so long for this,” Wendell said with an almost audible smile. “Ever since you left me to die, all I could think about was hovering over your body as you bled out. I made plans for you—so many different plans. My only regret is that I had to pick just one. I had to make you suffer, watching people around you die and knowing it was all your fault. Then… this. You’re a survivor, aren’t you?”
“I’ve lived to tell a tale or two,” Mason said.
“But not tonight.”
“Sure. I mean, you shoved me off a cliff—twice—and here I am.”
“Because you had help,” Wendell said.
Mason went quiet then. Aggravating him wasn’t going to do him any favors. The best he could do was focus on making it down this long road, staying alive long enough to drive far, far away from the family he’d left behind him.
“You pissed me off,” Wendell continued. “You pushed your luck and my buttons. So now you’ll get a chance to see some of my other ideas, and trust me, you won’t like them. Now pull over on the left past this tree.”
Nodding, Mason did as he was told. The breeze carried the smoke in the other direction, clearing his view of the woods. He stopped past the tall tree just like instructed. When he saw the location they’d arrived at, horror and dread wormed their way into his skull.
He had been here before.