“Now,” Aaron whispered. “On the right.”

I saw the break in the treeline just in time.

It was a narrow gravel track, overgrown with weeds and partially blocked by a rusted steel gate that had been bent backward.

I cut the wheel to the right, braking hard.

The car slid sideways on the wet gravel, the rear tires catching the edge of a shallow ditch before we straightened out.

Behind us, the SUV’s tires shrieked as the driver missed the turn, skidding past the entrance before stopping.

I shut off our headlights immediately.

We plunged into total darkness, the dense canopy of oak trees blocking out what little ambient light remained in the sky.

I navigated by the pale grey outline of the gravel path ahead.

Branches scraped against the sides of the car like fingernails on metal.

“Keep rolling,” Aaron said, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. “Do not stop until we are under the concrete overhang.”

We bounced over deep potholes filled with rainwater, the suspension groaning.

After three hundred yards, the trees cleared slightly, revealing the dark silhouette of a low concrete building.