The Covenant's Burden
👉 Previous Decision: You chose to try to leak the documents to the local sheriff during the night in the dark storm.
The wind howled, rattling the tower. Miriam and I looked at each other, the truth in our hands, Jonah’s forces closing in. The thought of waiting through the night, a target in the storm-battered tower, filled me with dread.
“We can’t stay here,” I declared, grabbing my copy of the charter and a few of Miriam’s most damning binders. “I have to get these to the sheriff. Now.”
Miriam’s face was grim. “Grace, the storm… the roads will be dangerous. Jonah will have lookouts.”
“I have to try,” I insisted, already moving towards the narrow window she had entered through. “This is our only chance.”
I squeezed through the opening, Miriam close behind me, carrying the rest of her evidence. The rain was already coming down in sheets, plastering my hair to my face. The ground was slick with mud, and the wind nearly tore the documents from my grip.
We stumbled down the hill, away from the sanctuary, towards the main county road. Every few seconds, a flash of lightning illuminated the chaotic scene: trees thrashing, power lines sparking in the distance, the ground rapidly turning into a bog.
We reached the old wooden bridge that spanned the furious, swollen creek leading to the nearest town. It was the only way across. My heart sank. The water was a raging torrent, higher than I had ever seen it. As a particularly violent gust of wind ripped through the valley, we heard a terrifying crack, like a gunshot, then a series of groans and splintering wood.
The center section of the bridge, old and weakened, gave way with a deafening crash. It plunged into the churning water, carried away by the deluge. The path to the sheriff, to safety, was cut off, a gaping, impassable chasm in the darkness.
Miriam pulled me back from the edge, her face pale with horror. “We’re trapped,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the storm’s roar. “There’s no other way across for miles.”
Suddenly, a distant siren wailed, growing louder. Not the sheriff, but an official-looking vehicle from Jonah’s compound, its headlights cutting through the driving rain. They had cornered us. Jonah’s meticulous planning had accounted for every contingency, even an act of God.
We heard shouts, the crunch of boots in the mud. There was no escape. The documents in my hands, meant to be my salvation, were now merely wet paper. Jonah’s lawyers, unimpeded, would be filing default judgments against me, formalizing their claims to the sanctuary while I was stranded, isolated, and powerless.
⚠️ BAD ENDING / GAME OVER
The storm trapped you, and Jonah’s lawyers secured default judgments against you. 👈 Click to return to CHAPTER 6A to choose a different path
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