Kolya digs his fingers into my flesh. “Don’t move,” he whispers.
I freeze, not even daring to blink.
The sedan idles, engine humming with menace.
Beneath the pale moonlight and anemic streetlamps, I can make out sleek lines and the gleam of freshly waxed paint. Such a nondescript car.
A porch light from a house across the street flicks on.
The car’s engine revs before resuming its prowl.
Kolya shifts beside me, his head tilting as he surveys our surroundings. His eyes land on the Escalade parked in the driveway next to us. The kind of vehicle that screams “successful middle manager with a trophy wife and perfect kids” like a monument to suburban wealth.
“Stay here.”
Keeping low, he swiftly glides across the driveway toward the SUV.
My heart stops. What’s he doing? Stealing it? Is that our escape plan?
His hand slaps the vehicle’s side panel with a resounding smack.
Whoop-whoop-whoop!
The alarm blares against the backdrop of an otherwise quiet night. Lights flash, strobing the driveway in amber and red pulses.
Like falling dominoes, more porch lights snap on.
One, then three, then a dozen houses begin to glow. A dog starts barking and another joins in, a discordant suburban chorus accompanying the mechanical wail.
Tires squeal as the sedan accelerates, roaring past our hiding spot and disappearing around the corner.
Kolya’s beside me again, hauling me deeper into the shadows. Across the street, an elderly man in striped pajamas peers out a door, squinting into the night.
Kolya leads me around the side of the house toward the back fence. “Go. Now.”
We sprint across another lawn, leaping over a child’s tricycle and ducking beneath a clothesline.
Behind us, the alarm continues its relentless shrieking.
Sirens soon accompany the chorus.
My thoughts spin faster than my feet can carry me. I’m not just fleeing from the men in the dark sedan anymore but also from cops who might help me.
I’m running with the very man who lured this danger to my door.
And now, I have nowhere to go.
Panic claws at my throat as I grapple for some tiny shred of control in this spiraling chaos.
“Wait.” I stumble to a stop. My legs tremble, threatening to buckle.
The blue-and-red beams of approaching police cars flash through the trees, illuminating Kolya’s hardened features like a demonic light show.
“My friend. Bree. Her house is two streets over.” The idea tumbles out in desperate gasps. “I know the code to get in.”
“No civilians.” He responds with finality. A decree from a rulebook I can’t even imagine.
“She won’t be there!” Despair sharpens my voice, which is too loud for our precarious situation. I force out an urgent whisper. “She’s a night-shift nurse and won’t be home until after seven tomorrow morning. Her house will be empty. Please. I know her key code. We can hide there for the night.”
