Chapter Forty-Four: Escape

Helicopters patrolled continuously overhead. Squads of soldiers marched through the small town, police cars endlessly blaring their sirens as they darted through the streets. Agents in jackets bearing the agency’s insignia hurried in and out of the police station.

“The town’s population has been accounted for—we’re missing two people… Casualty report: two dead, including Sheriff Breckin.” Deputy Coffin was speaking with a senior agent from the Bureau. The Bureau had already taken over the case; she was merely assisting.

“Who are the missing two?” a senior official from the Bureau asked, frowning as he regarded Coffin solemnly. This was her office, but now it served as his temporary headquarters.

The events that had taken place here were under strict lockdown.

“Fengyu Qiu, April Malloy,” Coffin replied after a moment’s thought, her face expressionless, almost blank as she spoke.

“Is there anything special about either of these two?”

“They’re both outsiders. The house that was destroyed belonged to April Malloy. As for Qiu, he moved here not long ago, before April arrived.”

Seeing that he could glean no more information, the Bureau official nodded to Coffin. “Thank you, Deputy Coffin… But I must congratulate you. Given your courageous conduct during this incident, you’re likely to be promoted to sheriff.”

Coffin stared at him in a daze, then replied coldly, “Do you think that makes me happy?” Without another glance at him, she turned and walked out.

The name Fengyu Qiu did not appear in Coffin’s report. No one at the station mentioned him. Thus, Fengyu Qiu was effectively erased from the aftermath of the battle.

Meanwhile, Anthony was in the hospital in Paso City, and immediately after surgery, he was interrogated by Bureau officials at his bedside. In the end, he was suspended for two months—exactly until after the councilman’s court date.

“Hey, Breckin, what are you doing here?” Coffin was overwhelmed with work at the station when she suddenly noticed Breckin storming toward her.

“I’m here to file a report! I want to report a theft—some lowlife has stolen my BMW! That was the most iconic model from the seventies… I swear, if I catch him, I’ll tear him apart… That classic car was worth four hundred thousand dollars, and you can hardly buy one anymore…” Breckin, upon seeing Coffin, approached her as if she were family—on the verge of tears.

“Well, you’ll have to wait. As you can see, these are all people making reports too. Their property was damaged last night…” Coffin patiently asked him to sit, pointing to the others waiting inside the station.

Dozens of people sat there, each waiting to be called into another office for questioning. Judging by the looks of things, it would be days before Breckin’s turn came.

“Damn it, my loss is much greater…” Breckin grumbled.

“There’s nothing I can do. Everything has to go by the book,” Coffin replied helplessly, spreading her hands. “Oh, and I have to attend Sheriff Breckin’s memorial soon. Goodbye, Breckin!” With that, she stood and headed out.

Breckin had been a respected man, and his body now lay in the town church. Many had come to pay their respects to the late sheriff.

Coffin sat in the front row, weighed down by grief. She’d only ever felt this way once before, when her father died—the same sense of suffocating sorrow, on the verge of breaking.

“Sheriff Breckin was already a police officer in this town when I was born. He was my father’s dearest friend. After my father passed, he cared for me as if I were his own daughter. I loved him—he’s always been my father… I never imagined what it would be like to lose him…” Coffin broke down in tears as she spoke from the podium.

Many in the crowd sobbed quietly below.

At the Abilene town cemetery, police officers stood in two solemn lines, rifles in hand. Four pallbearers stood by the casket, folding the national flag that draped it with reverent care.

The chief of police from Paso City personally delivered a eulogy.

As the casket was lowered into the grave, Coffin gently placed a flower on it, leaned down to kiss the lid, then turned away, unable to hold back her tears once more.

Breckin’s death was an unbearable blow.

At the same time, she understood that Fengyu Qiu’s departure was likely tied to April. All she could do now was pray that Fengyu Qiu would survive this ordeal.

“Ready—fire—”

A volley of gunshots echoed over the cemetery, startling the birds in the woods into flight.

At a roadside convenience store on the highway to San Diego, a TV hung from the wall as people ate their meals. The fast food here was nothing but chicken—no other options to speak of.

“At 3:30 this morning, a gas leak caused an explosion in Abilene, a small town near Paso City, Texas. Two people died, one was seriously injured. Authorities believe the explosion was triggered by aging gas lines. One house was leveled. The deceased were two local police officers who responded to the emergency, including the sheriff. Both lost their lives in a second explosion from the ruptured gas main…”

“Unbelievable—they’re calling it a gas explosion. Those bastards…” April spat through clenched teeth. “It has to be that bastard’s doing. Does he want to cover up everything?”

“Who is ‘he’?” Fengyu Qiu asked, watching her.

“Corey Newsom.”

“And who is Corey Newsom?”

April rolled her eyes at him. “Where are we going now?”

“Do you have a safe place?” Fengyu Qiu asked. “Since I came to America, I’ve only been at the airport, in Paso City, and in Abilene. I can’t think of anywhere else.”

With Fengyu Qiu’s disappearance in this incident, it would be easy to link him with April’s. That meant his days ahead would likely be difficult.

“I hate red hair,” April grumbled as they left the fast food joint. She wore a fiery red wig cut to her shoulders, giving her a wild beauty.

In the parking lot sat Breckin’s vintage BMW. Fengyu Qiu had hidden his own car in Siercha’s garage.

“I like my beard!” Fengyu Qiu stroked his thick stubble. He looked now like a rugged Native American, his skin a deep tan.

They got into the car. In the passenger seat, April asked, “So where are we going—San Diego? I don’t like that place.”

“If you were free, we wouldn’t have to go. But right now, we’re on the run. Don’t be picky. We’ll leave Texas, swing by San Diego. Trust me, we’ll be safe,” Fengyu Qiu said, starting the car and speeding down the highway.

“Let’s hope it’s not another Abilene,” April muttered. She was starting to worry about Anthony, and after a long silence, she asked softly, “Will Anthony be okay?”

“Yes, I promise. He’ll be fine.”

With stops and starts, within a day they had left Abilene and crossed into California, nearing San Diego. A sign by the road read, “Escondido—57 miles to San Diego.”

“San Diego, we finally made it!” April cheered, raising her arms at the sight of the sign.

“No, no, no—Escondido, we have arrived!” Fengyu Qiu shook his head at her.

April seemed about to protest.

“Pull over, man. Come on, I haven’t been to a nice bar in ages,” she complained to Fengyu Qiu.

“Not unless you want them to find us.”

“But… we changed our look, didn’t we?” April reasoned.

“Doesn’t matter. We stay here until you go to court. No arguments,” Fengyu Qiu replied, turning the car off the highway and into the town streets.

He parked beside a bar, then went in and looked around before ordering at the counter. “One vodka, one whiskey.”

“Scotch, on the rocks,” April added.

Fengyu Qiu glanced at her, then at the bartender. “I’m the one paying.”

“Fine, fine, just a regular whiskey then,” April shrugged, sticking her tongue out at the bartender.

“That sort of thing will give you away. Lose your old habits,” Fengyu Qiu said sternly.