Jack Coleman on the Run — Danger Is Closing In | Action Thriller

The road stretches straight ahead of us. Green fields on both sides. Rusted barns. A cloudless blue sky.

Sam sings a children’s song from the back seat. Something about a duck and a frog. I don’t recognize the tune, but his voice sounds calm.

Emma looks out the passenger window. She’s holding a coffee, almost cold now.

“How much longer?” she asks.

“Three hours to the Ontario border. Then another two to the lake.”

“And then?”

“Frank said he’s waiting for us in a town called Kenora. He’ll give us the keys to the house there.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Enough.”

She nods. Takes a sip of coffee.

“Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“What will you do when we get there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you plan to get your memory back?”

“I don’t know if I want to.”

She turns toward me. I look at her for a moment, then back to the road.

“There are things I probably shouldn’t remember,” I say. “Things I did.”

“You already know what you did.”

“I know what I’ve been told. It’s not the same.”

“Maybe it’s better that way.”

“Maybe.”

Sam stops singing.

“Dad, I’m hungry.”

“We’ll stop in the next town.”

“Do they have burgers?”

“I’m sure they do.”

“Good.”

I smile. A small one, but real.

The car keeps heading east. The sun feels warmer now. Emma rolls the window down a bit. Fresh, clean air flows in.

I check the rearview mirror. The road behind us is empty.

For now, no one is following us.

A sign announces the next town in five kilometers. I slow down a little. The town looks small. A neon sign reads “El Camino Restaurant” by the roadside.

“Does that work?” I ask.

“Works,” Emma says.

I park on the gravel in front of the restaurant. Turn off the engine. The place looks quiet. A couple of old pickup trucks in the lot. The front door is open.

“Let’s go,” I say.

I get out. Open the back door for Sam. He jumps down and grabs my hand. Emma closes her door and waits for us.

We go inside. The restaurant smells like grease and coffee. There’s a long counter with stools and a few yellow formica tables. An older man sits near the window reading a newspaper. A waitress in a white apron looks at us from behind the counter.

“Sit wherever you like,” she says.

We choose a table in the back, near the emergency exit.

“What do you want to eat, champ?” I ask Sam.

“A cheeseburger and fries.”

“And to drink?”

“A strawberry milkshake.”

“Okay.”

Emma smiles. She orders coffee and toast. I order the same as Sam, but with a soda.

The waitress writes it down and leaves. The place is quiet. Just the sound of a muted TV and a ceiling fan turning slowly.

“It’s nice here,” Emma says.

“Yeah.”

I look out the window. The car is still there, alone. The road is deserted.

“Do you think we’ve lost them?” she asks.

“For now.”

“And Valeria?”

“She hasn’t called since last night. That’s a good sign.”

Emma nods. She rests her elbows on the table and clasps her hands.

“What will you do if Mitchell finds you?” she asks.

“I’m not going to let that happen.”

“But if it does.”

“Then I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her the truth.”

“And what truth is that?”

“That I’m not the man she’s looking for. That I don’t remember anything. That I just want to protect my family.”

She looks at me intently. Then lowers her gaze.

“I wish it were that simple.”

“I know.”

The waitress brings the food. Sam grabs the burger with both hands and takes a big bite.

“It’s good,” he says with his mouth full.

“Eat slowly.”

He nods, but keeps eating the same way.

Emma drinks her coffee. I eat in silence.

When we finish, I pay in cash. Leave a tip on the table.

We step outside. The sun is higher now. Almost noon.

We get back in the car. I start the engine.

“Still two hours to Kenora,” I say.

“Okay.”

I pull out of the lot and get back on the road.

Sam falls asleep in the back seat within minutes. Emma closes her eyes, resting her head against the window.

I drive.

The landscape changes as we move forward. The green fields turn into pine forests. The asphalt is in good condition. Little traffic.

A truck passes in the opposite direction. Then nothing.

I check the rearview mirror.

The road is still empty.

But I can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. Something I can’t see yet.

I tighten my grip on the wheel and keep driving.

The pine forest thickens on both sides of the road. Long shadows stretch across the asphalt. I slow down as we take a sharp curve.

A sign marks the provincial border. Welcome to Ontario. I keep going straight.

Emma opens her eyes.

“Are we there yet?”

“About an hour left.”

She stretches in her seat. Looks back. Sam is still asleep, his head tilted against the window.

“I need to stop for a moment,” she says.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a break.”

I see a rest area a few hundred meters ahead. A clearing with wooden tables and a public restroom. I park near the trees.

I get out. The air smells like pine and damp earth. Emma walks toward the restroom. I lean against the car and look around. The road is empty in both directions.

Sam is still sleeping.

Emma comes back. She sits at one of the tables. I follow and sit across from her.

“I’m tired, Jack,” she says quietly.

“I know.”

“Not from running. Really tired.”

“We’ll stop soon. Frank said the house is isolated. No one will find us there.”

She looks at me.

“And then? Are we going to spend the rest of our lives hiding?”

“Until I find a way to end this.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“I don’t know yet.”

She nods slowly. Stands up. Walks toward the car.

“Let’s go. I want to get there before dark.”

I get in. Start the engine. And head back onto the road toward Kenora.