Eli took Darla's hand. She stood at once, and the two of them crossed the open yard toward the workbay while the men and women who remained began moving to secure the building and contact the authorities. Eli felt the exposure in every step. The gravel sounded far too loud beneath his shoes, and the strip of unlit ground on the south side seemed to widen as he looked at it.
Inside the workbay, the smell of oil and cold metal was familiar enough to steady him for one breath. Eight motorcycles stood in a row, their frames making uneven silhouettes under the emergency lights. He remembered the cabinet near the far wall containing first-aid equipment and a portable spotlight used for roadside repairs. Darla asked what exits the building had, and Eli pointed toward the open east side.
"What's beyond that?" she whispered. "The storage sheds and a county fence," Eli answered. "Then timberland. There's a road farther east." Darla studied the layout without asking him to explain more, and he saw that she was thinking in connections the way he did. She was frightened, but the fear had not taken away her ability to make decisions.
They heard movement outside the main door. A voice whispered something Eli could not understand, followed by the brief sound of a hand testing the latch. Darla held his wrist. She did not tell him to hide behind her, perhaps because the workbay contained no safe place that would remain hidden if someone searched it. Instead she whispered that they would move together when the door opened.
The handle turned again. Cold air slipped through the gap, and a man in dark clothing pushed his shoulder inside. Eli saw a second figure behind him. Neither wore the Ironbound Riders' patch, and the first man looked toward the row of motorcycles as though searching for someone.
Eli's hand closed around the portable spotlight. He turned it on, and a brilliant cone of light struck the doorway, forcing the two men to flinch and cover their eyes. The moment was brief and chaotic rather than perfect; one of the intruders shouted, and the beam swung across the ceiling as Eli turned. But it was enough to create a few seconds in which the doorway was no longer an obstacle.
"Run," Darla said, and Eli was already moving. They crossed the workbay between the motorcycles, passed through the open east end, and reached the storage sheds without looking back. Behind them came angry voices and footsteps on gravel. Eli heard Boon shout something near the main building, then the sound of an engine starting at the far side of the yard.
They did not know whether the men were following, or whether the others had stopped them. Eli concentrated on the ground beneath his feet and the weight of his mother's hand. He had never been so aware of how quickly a person could lose their balance. The fence ahead was only a dark line against darker trees, but he knew there was a loose section from walking the perimeter during a supervised grounds inspection earlier that week.
He found the low gap and helped Darla through. The rough wire caught the sleeve of his coat as he followed, tearing the fabric before he pulled free. They entered the timber beyond the compound, where the ground was uneven and the trees blocked almost all remaining light. Eli adjusted the spotlight downward to see the next few yards without sending the beam through the canopy.