Page 32 of The One that Got Away

"Ava, we have to leave now," Lisa's voice was firm yet gentle, and the urgency was evident in her gaze.

Ava's eyes met Lisa’s, a thousand unsaid words passing between them. Without hesitation, she scooped up Daniel, whispered something in his ear that made his eyes widen, and hurried inside.

The atmosphere was thick with worry and unanswered questions as they each grabbed essentials. Who were these people who kept coming after Ava? The sheriff had told them the pursuers left at the cannery all were wanted men for crimes committed somewhere else, so they were now in custody and would be prosecuted for those crimes and what they did to Oliver and Lisa. But these men could only have been messengers for whoever wanted to hurt Ava. So, where were these threats coming from? Why wouldn’t they stop?

They worked silently and efficiently, the bonds of family and unspoken love driving them forward. Every second counted, every heartbeat a drumroll of anticipation.

Lisa zipped shut the last of the heavy-duty backpacks, her hands steady despite the turmoil brewing within. The sharp tang of pine mingled with the musty scent of leather that permeated their modest living room was a reminder of Oliver's woodworking skills and the countless hours he spent shaping wood into something magical. Now, those same callused hands were wrapping blankets around supplies, protective and precise.

"Deep in the Alaskan wilderness, there's a place not many know about," Oliver said, his voice hushed as if sharing a sacred secret. It's an old cabin, well-hidden and well-stocked. It belongs to my grandfather, but he's an old man, he hasn’t been there in many years since it’s very impassable terrain. We'll be safe there."

Lisa watched as the children's eyes sparkled at the mention of a hidden cabin. Their innocence was a stark contrast to the reason for their hasty departure. She nodded, drawing strength from Oliver's calm demeanor. "Then that's where we'll go. It'll be like those stories we tell by the fireplace. Only this time, we're living it."

With each item secured in the trunk of their reliable four-wheel-drive—canned goods, bottled water, matches, and first aid kits—a plan formulated in Lisa's mind. Maps scattered across the kitchen table were quickly studied, and routes memorized. She paused to add extra layers of clothing to the pile, her mind running through every possible scenario they might face.

"Mom, are we going camping?" Ethan’s small voice trembled with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.

"Something like that," Lisa replied, sweeping him into a hug that conveyed all the reassurance she could muster. "A special kind of camping where we look out for each other and stay close, like wolves in a pack."

As Oliver locked the doors and windows, the silence between them spoke volumes. Lisa threw a last glance over her shoulder at the cozy home that had been their refuge, praying that they would be back soon. Her heart ached, but the maternal instinct to safeguard her kin spurred her on.

"Let's go, my loves," she called, ushering the children toward the truck where Ava waited, Daniel clutched tightly in her arms. Their faces were set, a mirror of Lisa's determination.

They climbed into the vehicle, the engine coming to life with a comforting purr. Oliver maneuvered them onto the road, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror more often than usual. The path ahead wound into dense forests and rugged terrain, where the promise of solitude beckoned.

The road unspooled under the car like a gray ribbon, flanked by towering pines that whispered secrets of the deep Alaskan wilderness. Oliver’s hands gripped the steering wheel with quiet resolve as he navigated each bend and rise in the landscape. The children's soft breathing was intermittent with the sound of tires crunching gravel—a lullaby of motion and hope.

"Mom, are we almost there?" Abigail's voice cut through the monotony, tinged with a mix of excitement and weariness.

"Soon, sweetheart," Lisa replied, turning around and offering a reassuring smile.

Her eyes flicked back to the road, then to the mirror again—this time lingering longer than before. A knot tightened in her stomach as she caught sight of a vehicle that hadn't been behind them when they’d started their journey. Its presence was an anomaly on this seldom-used back route.

"Oliver," she said, her voice steady despite the chill crawling up her spine, "we have company."

He straightened in his seat, the playful glint in his blue eyes replaced by steely alertness. He looked in the mirror, observing the car that seemed to eat up the distance between them with hungry determination.

"Any idea who it might be?" she asked, her heart pounding frantically against her ribs.

"None," Oliver murmured, the lines of his face hardening. "But we're not taking any chances."

Lisa’s mind raced. She thought of the message on Ava’s phone, the words that had disrupted their peace, and felt the protective lioness within her awaken.

"I’ll keep an eye on them," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. She turned her back to watch the pursuing vehicle. “You focus on the driving.”

"You got it," Oliver assured her, his hand sliding down next to his seat, where discreetly placed—where the children couldn’t see—he clutched his gun.

Lisa focused on the car behind them. The persistent presence of the vehicle in the mirror gnawed at her sense of safety. She remembered Oliver showing her the hidden trails and shortcuts, paths not marked on any map and known only to those who called this untamed land home.

"Oliver," whispered Lisa, her voice taut with urgency, "it's getting closer."

He nodded, feeling the weight of their family's lives balanced delicately in his hands. In the driver's seat, he was more than a father, a lover, a business partner; he was the guardian of their collective future, steering them through uncertainty toward the promise of refuge.

"Everything will be okay," he said, more to himself than to Lisa or the children. And as the suspicious car edged nearer, he pressed his foot gently onto the accelerator, his resolve as unyielding as the wilderness surrounding them.

Oliver's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening as the engine roared in protest. The rearview mirror framed the ominous approach of their pursuer, a darkened silhouette that seemed to grow larger with each passing second. Lisa's hand rested on his shoulder—a silent plea for reassurance—as the children's hushed whispers filled the backseat. Ava sat completely still, only turning around now and then to see if the car was still there, her face pale, her eyes big with anxiety.

"We’ve got this," Lisa murmured.

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