The heavy metal doors slammed shut, locking him in the dark.

Marcus stood by the van, wiping the rain from his face with a sleeve.

“Search the woods for another ten minutes,” Marcus ordered his men. “If you don’t find her, we leave.”

“What about the woman?” one of the men asked.

“She won’t go far,” Marcus said. “She has nowhere to go. And she wants her husband back.”

Marcus climbed into the passenger seat of the van.

The van’s engine started up with a low rumble, and its taillights glowed cherry red in the dark.

Arthur pulled my arm again.

“We have to go now,” he said. “They are going to search this section next.”

I let him guide me through the dark, my feet moving mechanically over the wet earth.

Every muscle in my body aighed with pain, but the fear kept me moving.

We walked for what felt like miles through the dense woods behind the Oakhill limits.

The rain slowly began to taper off into a cold, clinging mist.

Finally, we emerged onto a narrow dirt road where an old, rusted station wagon was parked under a willow tree.