Chapter 6: The Sound of the Gravel Drive
Above them, the distinct crunch of heavy tires rolling over loose gravel cut through the hum of the basement. Julian froze, his hand still extended toward the cage. The children didn't move either, but the boy’s head snapped toward the ceiling, his small nostrils flaring as if he could smell the exhaust fumes through three feet of dirt and timber. Clara stepped back, her high heel catching in a crack in the concrete, causing her to stumble half an inch before she regained her balance with unnatural grace. She pressed the phone harder against her palm, the blue light illuminating the frantic twitch of her eyelids. "They shouldn't be here," Julian said, his voice dangerously quiet. "You told me the route was clear for forty-eight hours." Clara didn't answer him. Her thumb flew across the glass, hitting a series of hard overrides that locked every smart deadbolt on the upper floors. Down in the dark, the heavy iron chain felt suddenly heavier, a tangible anchor tying them to a past they couldn't outrun. Julian turned his head toward the small frosted glass window high up on the eastern wall, just level with the lawn outside. Through the dirty pane, two beams of white headlights swept across the bare branches of the oak tree, washing the basement in a pale, ghostlike glare before cutting out entirely. The engine died upstairs. The silence that followed was heavier than the chains.
