Chapter 8 - The Chase in the Storm
The rain outside was turning into a blinding winter blizzard. Wind howled through the trees surrounding the Brookline estate.
Maya burst through the heavy service door into the dimly lit underground parking garage just as a black SUV roared to life. Through the tinted window, she saw Colin Dray in the driver's seat, with Ethan slumped unconscious in the passenger seat.
The SUV accelerated up the concrete ramp toward the estate’s side exit.
Maya didn't hesitate. Parked near the service door was Ethan’s old, manual backup wheelchair—a heavy, chrome-plated model. Maya leaped onto the back frame of the wheelchair, grabbing the handles like a scooter, and pushed off down the steep concrete drainage ramp, using gravity to barrel down the driveway after the SUV.
The black SUV crashed through the side wooden gate, turning onto the winding, icy mountain road that led down from the estate.
Maya’s makeshift ride rattled violently over the asphalt, sparks flying from the footrests as she zoomed through the rain and snow. She was terrified, but her stubborn rage was stronger than her fear.
Up ahead, the SUV suddenly fishtailed on a patch of black ice.
Colin slammed on the brakes, but the heavy vehicle slid sideways, crashing heavily into a concrete bridge abutment overlooking the raging, icy waters of the Charles River. The front end of the SUV buckled with a horrific metal crunch, smoke pouring from the radiator.
Maya slammed her feet onto the asphalt, bringing the manual wheelchair to a skidding stop fifty feet away.
The driver’s door of the SUV flew open. Colin Dray stumbled out, bleeding from a gash on his forehead. He looked back at the smoking car, panicked, hearing police sirens wailing in the distance—Richard had undoubtedly been alerted by the security system.
Knowing he was caught, Colin abandoned the car and fled into the dark, snowy woods along the riverbank.
“Ethan!” Maya screamed, running to the passenger side.
The door was jammed shut by the crash impact. Inside, smoke was filling the cabin, and Ethan was trapped in his seatbelt, still semiconscious from the drugged juice.
Maya pulled the crowbar-like metal tire iron that had fallen from the SUV's open trunk. Using all the strength in her seven-year-old body, she wedged the iron into the window frame, leaning her entire body weight against it until the glass shattered into a thousand harmless pieces.
She crawled through the broken window, her hands getting scraped, and unbuckled Ethan’s seatbelt.
“Ethan! Wake up! We have to get out!” Maya yelled, shaking his shoulders.
Ethan blinked weakly, coughing from the smoke. “Maya... I can't move my legs...”
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“I know!” Maya grunted. “I’m carrying you!”
Maya locked her arms around Ethan’s torso, pulling him through the broken window. She tumbled backward onto the freezing, slush-covered asphalt, dragging his limp body clear of the burning vehicle just as a flame erupted from the engine bay.
