Chapter 44 - The Scent of Ammonia and Steel
They weren't just hunting them. They were tracking Mason’s biological pulse.
Daniel’s blood ran cold. The transponder hadn't been placed on the bridge; it had been surgically implanted during one of Mason’s forced medical evaluations months ago, dormant until Vanessa’s biometrics activated it remotely. Every second they stayed still was a death sentence.
"Stay still, Mason," Daniel said softly, keeping his voice level, masking the absolute fury raging inside his chest. "We need to go inside. Just a little further, buddy. Be strong for me."
He scooped Mason into his arms and kicked open the rusted iron door of the abandoned railway switching station. The air inside smelled of stale engine grease, rat poison, and industrial ammonia. Rain drummed relentlessly against the corrugated tin roof, drowning out the distant thrum of helicopter blades.
Daniel kicked aside broken crates, finding an old workbench beside a deactivated electrical switchboard. He laid Mason down gently atop an oily canvas tarp.
From his utility belt, Daniel produced his field medical kit: antiseptic wipes, a surgical blade, a miniature cauterizing torch, and a roll of heavy gauze.
"Mason," Daniel knelt beside the boy, taking Mason’s small face between his trembling, calloused hands. "The bad people put something under your skin. A little radio bug. That’s how the monster knows which way we run."
Mason stared at the gleaming scalpel in Daniel’s hand. Fear, raw and ancient, widened the boy's dark pupils. "Is it going to hurt like the collar?"
"It’s going to hurt," Daniel confessed, his voice cracking for the first time in months. "It’s going to hurt bad for thirty seconds. But you are the bravest boy in the world. You survived her house. You survived her party. You survived the garden. Can you survive thirty seconds for me?"
Mason squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed Daniel’s forearm, nodding firmly. "Do it, Daddy. Don't let her take me."
Daniel didn't hesitate. He doused the scalpel in antiseptic, clamped a folded strip of leather between Mason's teeth, and made the incision. Mason let out a muffled, agonizing whimper, his small body stiffening against the table. Daniel worked with horrifying speed—two precise cuts, forceps digging into the fibrous tissue until metal clicked on titanium.
He yanked the transponder out.
The tiny glass cylinder was coated in blood and tissue, a microscopic wire antenna pulsing blue. Daniel smashed it beneath the heavy steel head of a rusted wrench, grinding the microcircuitry into fine powder.
He swiftly cauterized Mason’s wound, applied sterile pressure bandages, and pulled the boy into an iron embrace as Mason wept softly against his collarbone.
May you like
Suddenly, outside the cracked window, the beam of an infrared searchlight swept across the railway tracks. Tires crunched over gravel. A convoy had arrived.
***
