Chapter 7 - The Final Stand at the Lake
Z
“Over my dead body!” Clarissa screamed.
With a desperate, blinding rage, Clarissa swung the chef’s knife forward. The heavy steel blade sliced across Marcus’s forearm, cutting through his heavy leather jacket and slicing open the skin underneath.
Marcus roared in pain and rage, stumbling back a step. “You crazy bitch!”
“Run, Dustin! Run to the lake!” Clarissa screamed, shoving her son toward the rear glass patio door.
Dustin didn't hesitate. He unlocked the sliding door, pushed it open, and sprinted out into the dark, mist-covered backyard toward the wooden dock extending out into Lake Erie.
“Get the kid!” Parker yelled, lunging forward to grab Clarissa.
Clarissa turned and threw the heavy wooden knife block directly into Parker’s face. It struck him square in the nose with a sickening crunch. Parker dropped to his knees, blood pouring from his face as he screamed in agony.
Marcus, bleeding heavily from his arm, raised his gun, aiming it at Clarissa’s chest. “You’re done, Clarissa!”
CLANG!
From behind Marcus, Victoria swung a heavy cast-iron frying pan with both hands, striking Marcus squarely across the back of the head.
The blow sent Marcus crashing down onto the hardwood floor, his gun slipping from his grip and sliding across the room into the dark corner near the fireplace.
“Go!” Victoria screamed at Clarissa, her hands shaking as she held the frying pan. “I’ll cover Miller! Get your son!”
Clarissa didn't waste a single second. She turned and sprinted out the back door into the cold night air.
The fog rolling off the lake was thick, reducing visibility to just a few feet. Down on the wooden dock, she could hear Dustin’s frantic, light footsteps and his small voice crying out for her.
“Dustin! I’m right here!” Clarissa shouted, rushing down the sloping lawn toward the water.
She reached the edge of the dock just as Dustin reached the small motorboat tied to the wooden pilings—a boat Clarissa had purchased three years ago for summer fishing trips.
“Mommy! Hurry!” Dustin cried, reaching his small hand out to her from inside the boat.
Clarissa leapt onto the wooden boat, her feet landing hard on the fiberglass floor. She immediately reached for the ignition key—it was kept in the small glove compartment under the steering wheel. She pulled it out, jammed it into the ignition, and turned it.
The engine sputtered once, twice… but didn't start.
“Come on, come on!” Clarissa prayed through clenched teeth, pumping the throttle.
Behind them, heavy, crashing footsteps pounded down the grassy hill.
Out of the thick fog emerged Marcus. He was bleeding from his head and arm, his face twisted into a terrifying mask of pure rage. In his right hand, he held a heavy iron crowbar he had grabbed from the lawn tool shed.
“You’re not getting away!” Marcus roared, leaping off the grass and landing heavily onto the edge of the wooden dock, causing the entire structure to shake violently.
He raised the iron bar, aiming it at the motorboat’s engine.
Clarissa slammed her foot onto the gas pedal and turned the key one final time.
The 150-horsepower outboard engine roared to life, coughing up a cloud of blue smoke before the propeller bit into the dark water.
Clarissa untied the front cleat line with a single, desperate yank, threw the engine into reverse, and slammed the throttle backward.
The boat lurched backward into the open lake just as Marcus swung the crowbar down. The heavy iron bar smashed uselessly into the empty water where the boat’s stern had been a fraction of a second earlier.
Marcus lost his balance, slipping on the wet wood of the dock, and crashed headfirst into the freezing, dark waters of Lake Erie.
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Clarissa turned the boat around, slamming the throttle forward, steering the vessel out into the deep, misty waters, away from the shore, away from the house, into the safety of the open lake.
Behind them, the distant sounds of blaring police sirens echoed through the night air. Backup had finally arrived.
