Chapter 7
SILENCE FALLS IN THE TRUCK. SIX GLANCES IN the rearview mirror.
Flashing red and blue plays along her face.
“Not good,” Sam says.
“Shit,” Six says.
The bright lights and screaming siren rouse even Bernie
Kosar, who peers out the back window.
“What do we do?” Sam asks, his voice frightened and
desperate.
Six takes her foot off the accelerator and steers the truck
to the right side of the highway.
“It might mean nothing,” she says.
I shake my head. “Doubtful.”
“Wait. Why are we stopping?” Sam asks. “Don’t stop.
Step on it!”
“Let’s see what happens first. We’ll never make it if we
lead this cop on a high-speed chase. He’ll call for backup
and they’ll get a helicopter. Then we’ll never get away.”
Bernie Kosar begins growling. I tell him to chill out and he
stops, but he keeps vigil out the window. Gravel pings
against the truck as we slow along the shoulder. Cars
speed past in the left lanes. The cop car pulls to within ten
feet of our rear bumper, and its headlights fill the truck’s
interior. The cop flips them off, then aims a spotlight straight
through the rear window. The siren stops wailing but the
through the rear window. The siren stops wailing but the
lights still flash.
“What do you think?” I ask, watching from the side mirror.
The spotlight is blinding; but when a car passes, I can see
that the officer is holding the radio up in his right hand,
probably running our license plate, or calling for backup.
“Our best bet is to flee on foot,” Six says. “If that’s what it
comes to.”
“Turn off your vehicle and remove the key from the
ignition,” the cop barks through a speaker.
Six turns off the truck. She looks at me and removes the
key.
“If he radios us in, you have to assume that they’ll hear it,”
I say.
She nods, says nothing. From behind us the officer’s car
door creaks. His approaching boots click bleakly on the
asphalt.
“Do you think he’ll recognize us?” Sam asks.
“Shhh,” Six says.
When I look in the side mirror again, I realize the officer
isn’t walking towards the driver’s side, and has instead
veered right and is coming towards me. He taps my
window with his chrome flashlight. I hesitate for a moment,
then roll it down. He shines the light in my face, causing me
to squint. Then he moves the beam to Sam, then Six. He
forces his brows together, studying each of us closely while
he tries to determine why we look so familiar.
“Is there a problem, officer?” I ask.
“You kids from around here?”
“No, sir.”
“Ya care tellin’ me why y’alls drivin’ through Tennessee in
a Chevy S-10 with North Carolina plates belonging to a
Ford Ranger?”
He glares at me, waiting for an answer. My face feels
warm as I struggle to find one. I have nothing. The officer
bends down and again flashes the light on Six. Then at
Sam.
“Anyone wanna try me?” he asks.
He’s met with silence, which causes him to chuckle.
“Of course not,” he says. “Three kids from North Carolina
driving through Tennessee in a stolen truck on a Saturday
night. Ya kids are on a dope run, aren’t ya?”
I turn and stare into his face, which is ruddy and clean
shaven.
“What do you want to do?” I ask.
“What do I wanna do? Ha! Ya kids are going to jail!”
I shake my head at him. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
He leans forward with his elbows on the door.
“So where’s the dope?” he says, and then sweeps the
flashlight across the interior of the truck. He stops when the
light hits the Chest at my feet, then a smug smile spreads
along his lips. “Well, never mind, looks like I found it myself.”
He reaches to open the door. In one lightning-quick
motion I shoulder-open the door and knock the officer
backwards. He grunts and moves for his gun before he
even hits the ground. Using telekinesis, I rip it away,
bringing it to me as I step out. I open the chamber and
empty the bullets into my hand and snap the gun shut.
“What the …” The officer is dumbfounded.
“We’re not dealing dope,” I say.
Sam and Six are out of the truck now and standing
beside me.
“Put these in your pocket,” I say to Sam, handing him the
bullets. Then I hand him the gun.
“What do you want me to do with this?” Sam asks.
“I don’t know; put it in your bag with your dad’s gun.”
Off in the distance, two miles away, the whine of a
second siren reaches me. The officer stares intently at me,
his eyes wide in recognition.
“Aw hell, you the boys from the news, aren’t ya? Y’all are
those terrorists!” he says, and spits on the ground.
“Shut up,” Sam says. “We’re not terrorists.”
I turn around and grab Bernie Kosar, who’s still in the cab
because of his broken leg. As I’m lowering him to the
ground, an agonizing scream rips through the night. I jerk
around and see Sam convulsing, and it takes a second to
realize what’s happened. The officer has Tasered him. I
tear the Taser from him while I’m ten feet away. Sam falls to
the ground and shakes as though he’s having a seizure.
“What the hell is the matter with you!” I yell at the officer.
“We’re trying to save you; don’t you see that!”
Confusion crosses his face. I press the button of the
Taser as it hovers in the air. Blue currents snap across the
top of it. The cop scrambles away. I use telekinesis to drag
him through the pebbles and trash on the side of the road.
He kicks and tries in vain to get away.
“Please,” he begs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t, John,” Six says.
I refuse to listen to her. I’m blind to anything other than
retribution, and I don’t feel a shred of remorse as I slam the
Taser into the officer’s gut and hold it there for a full two
seconds.
“How do you like it, huh? Big, tough guy with a Taser?
Why can’t anyone see we’re not the bad guys!”
He shakes his head, his face locked in a horrified
grimace, sweat beads glistening on his forehead.
“We have to get out of here fast,” Six says as the red and
blue lights of the second police car appear on the horizon.
I lift Sam and pull him over my shoulder. Bernie Kosar is
able to run on his own on only three legs. I carry the Chest
under my left arm while Six carries everything else.
“This way,” she says, jumping over the guardrail and
entering a barren field leading to the dark hills a mile away.
I sprint as fast as I can with Sam and the Chest. Bernie
Kosar tires of hobbling and morphs into a bird and speeds
ahead of us. Not a minute later the second car arrives on
the scene, followed by a third. I can’t tell if the officers are
pursuing us on foot; but if they are, Six and I can easily
outrun them even as weighed down as we are.
“Put me down,” Sam finally says.
“Are you okay?” I put him down.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam is a little unsteady. Sweat beads
his forehead, and he wipes it away with the sleeve of his
jacket and takes a deep breath.
“Come on,” Six says. “They aren’t going to let us go that
easily. We have ten minutes, fifteen at the most, until we’re
hiding from a helicopter.”
We make for the hills, Six in the lead, then me, then Sam
struggling to keep up. He moves much faster than when we
ran the mile in gym class a few months ago. It feels like
years ago. None of us looks back; but as soon as we reach
the first incline, the howl of a bloodhound fills the air. One of
the officers has brought a police dog.
“Any ideas?” I ask Six.
“I was hoping we could hide our stuff and go invisible.
That would elude a copter, but the dog will still pick up our
scent.”
“Shit,” I say. I look around. There’s a hill to our right.
“Let’s get to the top and see what’s on the other side,” I
say.
Bernie Kosar zips ahead and disappears into the night
sky. Six leads, stumbling wildly up. I follow behind her; and
Sam, who is breathing heavily yet still moving swiftly, brings
up the rear.
We stop at the top. Faint outlines of more hills as far as I
can see, nothing more. Very softly I hear the trickle of
running water. I spin around. Eight sets of flashing lights line
the highway, sandwiching Sam’s father’s truck. In the
distance, coming from both directions, two more cop cars
are speeding towards the scene. Bernie Kosar lands
beside me and turns back into a beagle, tongue dangling.
The police bloodhound barks, closer than before. There’s
no doubt that it’s following our scent, which means that
officers on foot can’t be far behind.
“We have to get the dog off our trail,” Six says.
“Can you hear that?” I ask her.
“Hear what?”
“The sound of water. I think there’s some kind of stream
at the bottom of this. Maybe a river.”
“I hear it,” Sam chimes in.
An idea pops into my head. I unzip my jacket and remove
my shirt. I wipe it across my face, my chest, soaking up
every bit of sweat and scent I might have. I throw it at Sam.
“Do what I just did,” I say.
“No way, that’s disgusting.”
“Sam, the entire state of Tennessee is hot on our trail.
We don’t have much time.”
He sighs but obeys me. Six does too, unsure of what I
have planned but willing to go along with it. I put on a new
shirt and slip on my jacket. Six tosses me the soiled shirt
and I rub it over Bernie Kosar’s face and body.
“We’re going to need your help, buddy. You up for it?”
I can hardly see him in the dark, but the sound of his tail
thumping excitedly on the ground is unmistakable. Always
eager to assist, happy to be alive. I can sense within him
the odd thrill of being chased, and I can’t help but feel it
myself.
“What’s your plan?” Six asks.
“We have to hurry,” I say, taking the first steps downhill
towards the running water. Bernie Kosar again turns
himself into a bird and we race down, occasionally hearing
the bloodhound bark and howl. It’s closing the gap. If my
idea fails, I wonder if I might communicate with it and tell it
to stop following us.
Bernie Kosar waits for us at the bank of the wide river,
which has a still quality to its surface that tells me it’s much
deeper than it sounded from the top of the hill.
“We have to swim across,” I say. There’s no other choice.
“What? John, do you understand what happens to the
human body when it’s in freezing water? Cardiac arrest
from shock, for one. And if that doesn’t kill you, then the loss
of feeling in your arms and legs will make it impossible to
swim. We’ll freeze and drown,” Sam objects.
“It’s the only way to get the dog from following our scent.
At least we’ll have a chance this way.”
“This is suicide. Remember for a second that I’m not an
alien.”
I drop to a knee in front of Bernie Kosar. “You have to
take this shirt,” I say to him. “Drag it across the ground as
fast as you can, for two or three miles. We’ll cross the river
so the bloodhound loses our scent and follows this one
instead. Then we’ll run some more. You should have no
trouble catching up to us if you fly.”
Bernie Kosar transforms into a large bald eagle, takes
the shirt into his talons, and speeds off.
“No time to waste,” I say, gripping the Chest in my left
arm so I can swim with my right. Just as I’m about to jump
into the water Six grabs my bicep.
“Sam’s right; we’ll freeze, John,” she urges. She looks
afraid.
“They’re too close. We have no other choice,” I say. She
bites her lip, her eyes sweeping the river, and turns back to
me, giving my arm another squeeze.
“Yes we do,” she says. She lets go of my arm, and the
whites of her eyes glisten in the dark. She pushes me
behind her and takes a step towards the water, then tilts her
head in a gesture of concentration. The bloodhound barks,
closer than before.
She exhales slowly. At the same time she lifts her hands
out in front of her, and as they come up, the waters of the
river begin to part right there before us. With a loud rushing
sound, the water foams and churns as it recedes upward to
reveal a muddy path five feet wide that cuts across to the
other bank. The water hovers, looking like a wave ready to
crash. But instead it hangs suspended while icy mist coats
our faces.
“Go!” she orders, her face strained in concentration, her
eyes on the water.
Sam and I jump down from the bank. My feet sink and the
mud comes nearly to my knees, but it still beats swimming
in forty-degree temperatures in the dead of night. We tramp
through it, taking big steps and struggling to lift our feet
from the heavy mud. Once we’re across Six follows,
rotating her hands as she passes through the massive
waves ready to crash into each other, waves of her own
creation. She climbs up the bank and then lets it go. The
waves smash down with a deep hollow thud as though
someone has just done a cannonball into it. The water rises
and falls, and then looks no different than it did before.
“Amazing,” Sam says. “Just like Moses.”
“Come on, we have to get into the trees so the dog can’t
see us,” she says.
The plan works. After just a few minutes, the dog pauses
at the riverbank and sniffs wildly. He circles several times
and then rushes after Bernie Kosar. Sam, Six, and I take off
in the opposite direction, just inside the tree line but near
enough to still see the river, going as fast as Sam’s legs will
permit.
The sound of men’s voices yelling to one another
reaches us for the first few minutes until we outrun them.
Ten minutes after that we hear the first whir of a helicopter.
We stop and wait for it to appear. A minute later, a spotlight
shines high in the sky a few miles away in the direction
Bernie Kosar has flown. The light sweeps the hills, shining
one way, rushing the other.
“He should have been back already,” I say.
“He’s fine, John,” Sam says. “He’s BK, the most resilient
beast I know.”
“He has a broken leg.”
“But two healthy wings,” Six counters. “He’s fine. We
have to keep going. They’ll figure it out soon, if they haven’t
already. We have to stay ahead. The longer we wait, the
closer they’ll get.”
I nod. She’s right. We have to keep going.
After a half mile the river takes a sharp turn to the right,
back towards the highway, away from the hills. We stop and
huddle beneath the low branches of a tall tree.
“Now what?” Sam asks.
“No idea,” I say. We turn in the direction in which we had
just fled. The helicopter is closer now, its spotlight still
sweeping back and forth across the hills.
“We have to leave the river,” I say.
“Yes, we do,” Six says. “He’ll find us, John. I promise.”
We hear an eagle’s scream high in the treetops not far
off. It’s too dark to see where he is, and perhaps too dark
for him to see us. I don’t think twice about it, even if it will
give away our position—I aim my palms towards the sky
and turn my lights on, letting them shine as brightly as I can
for a full half second. We wait, listening with our breaths
held and heads craned. And then I hear a dog’s pant, and
Bernie Kosar, changed back into a beagle, comes
charging up from the riverbank. He’s out of breath but
excited, his tongue falling from his mouth and his tail
whipping in the air a thousand miles an hour. I bend down
and pet him.
“Good job, buddy!” I say, planting a kiss on the top of his
head.
And then it happens, a quick end to a celebration that
was only just beginning.
While I’m on bended knee, a second copter shoots up
over the hill behind us, instantly hitting us with its bright
spotlight.
I bolt to my feet, blinded at once by the glaring beam.
“Run!” Six says.
We do, sprinting up the nearest hill. The helicopter drops
down and hovers so the wind off its rotors beats against our
backs and causes the trees to bow. The forest floor is a
haze of debris, and I drape my arm across my mouth to
breathe, keeping my eyes squinted to alleviate the stinging
dirt. How long until the FBI is called?
“Stay where you are!” a male voice blares from the
copter. “You’re all under arrest.”
We hear shouts. The officers on foot can’t be more than
five hundred feet away.
Six stops running, which causes Sam and me to do the
same.
“We’re toast!” Sam yells.
“Okay, you bastards. We’ll do this the hard way,” Six says
under her breath. She drops the bags, and for a second I
think she plans to make Sam and me invisible. While I have
no problem with leaving the bags behind, what does she
expect me to do with the Chest? She can’t make all of us
invisible and that, too.
A brilliant stroke of lightning splits the night sky in two,
followed by the deep groan of rolling thunder.
“John!” she yells without looking away.
“Right here.”
“Take care of the cops. Keep them away from me.”
Now I understand. I shove the Chest into Sam’s arms,
who stands beside me, unsure of what to do. “Guard this
with your life,” I tell him. “And stay down!” I turn to Bernie
Kosar and communicate that he needs to stay with Sam in
case our plan falls apart.
I sprint down the hill as another bolt of lightning, chased
by a clap of thunder dark and menacing in tone, flashes
across the sky. Good luck, fellas, I think, knowing full well
the power of Six’s abilities. You’re going to need it.
I reach the bottom and hide behind an oak. The voices
draw near, moving swiftly towards both pillars of light. Rain
begins to fall, cold and heavy. I glance up through the thick
drops and see both helicopters struggling against the galeforce
winds, but somehow still keeping their beams steady.
That won’t last for long.
The first two officers blow past me, followed closely
behind by a third. I reach out with my mind when they’re
fifteen feet away, grab all three in midstride, and yank them
towards the thick oak. They surge backwards so fast I have
to leap out of the way to keep from being hit. Two of them
fall lifelessly to the ground, knocked unconscious by the
tree. The third lifts his head, confused, then reaches for his
gun. I tear it from its holster before his hand even touches it.
The metal feels cold against my palm, and I turn to the two
copters and hurl it like a bullet at the nearest. That’s when I
see the eyes, doleful and black in the middle of the storm.
Soon the old, withered face takes shape. The same face I
saw in Ohio when Six killed the beast that wrecked the
school.
“Don’t move a muscle!” I hear behind me. “Hands in the
air!”
I turn to the officer. Without his gun, he aims his Taser
straight at my chest.
“Which is it, hands in the air or don’t move a muscle? I
can’t do both.”
He cocks the Taser. “Don’t be a smartass, kid,” he says.
Lightning cracks, followed by a roar of thunder that
makes the officer jump in surprise. The officer looks
towards the sound, and his eyes open wide in alarm. The
face in the clouds, it’s awoken.
I rip the Taser from his hand, then punch him hard in the
chest. He sails thirty feet backwards and crashes into the
side of a tree. While my back is still turned, the crack of a
nightstick slams against my skull. I fall face-first in the mud
and sparkling fuzz fills my vision. I turn as quickly as I can,
lift my hand towards the cop who hit me, and get a firm grip
around him before he’s able to hit me again. He grunts, and
with all of my might I throw him as hard as I can straight up
in the air. He screams until he’s up so high I can no longer
hear him over the copter blades and rumbling thunder. I feel
the back of my head and look at my hand. It’s covered with
blood. I catch the officer when he’s within five feet of dying. I
let him hover a few seconds before tossing him against a
tree, knocking him unconscious.
A loud explosion tears through the night, and the whir of
the copters cuts off. The wind stops. The rain stops, too.
“John!” Six screams from the top of the hill; and
somehow in the pleading, desperate tone of her voice, I
know what she needs me to do.
The lights in my hands snap on, two glowing spotlights
every bit as bright as those just extinguished. Both
helicopters are wrecked and twisted, and smoke pours
from them as they free fall. I don’t know what the face has
done to them, but Six and I must save the people aboard.
As they torpedo down, the helicopter farthest from me
jerks upwards. Six is trying to stop it. I don’t think she’ll be
able to, and I know that I can’t. It’s too heavy. I close my
eyes. Remember the basement in Athens, the way you
captured everything inside the room to stop the speeding
bullet. And that’s what I do, feeling everything inside the
cockpit’s interior. The controls. The weapons. The chairs.
The three men sitting in them. I grab hold of the men, and
as the trees begin to snap under the weight of the falling
copter, I yank all three out. The copter crashes to the
ground.
Six’s copter hits the ground at the same time as mine.
The explosions reach out over the treetops, two red balls of
fire floating up from the twisted steel. I hold the three men in
the air a safe distance from the damage, and bring them
carefully to the ground. Then I race back up the hill to Six
and Sam.
“Holy crap!” Sam says, his eyes wide-open.
“Did you pull them free?” I ask Six.
She nods. “Just in time.”
“Me too,” I say.
I grab the Chest from Sam and thrust it into Six’s arms.
Sam picks up our bags.
“Why are you giving me this?” Six asks.
“Because we have to get the hell out of here!” I say. I grab
Sam and drape him across my shoulders. “Hold on!” I yell.
We sprint away, deeper into the hills away from the river,
Bernie Kosar in the lead as a hawk. Let the cops try to
keep up now, I think.
It’s hard running with Sam on my shoulders, but I still
keep a pace three times faster than what he could run on
his own. And a far faster pace than any of the officers. Their
yelling voices fade away, and after both helicopters just
crashed in a heaping mess, who’s to say they’re even
following?
After twenty minutes of a full-on sprint, we stop in a small
valley. Sweat runs down my face. I shrug Sam off and he
drops the bags. Bernie Kosar lands.
“Well, I imagine we’re going to be all over the news again
after that,” Sam says.
I nod. “Staying hidden is going to be a lot harder than I
thought.” I bend over at the waist, catching my breath with
my hands on my knees. I smile, which quickly changes to a
kind of incredulous half laugh over what just happened.
Six grins crookedly, adjusts the Chest in her arms, and
begins climbing the next hill.
“Come on, guys,” she says. “We’re far from out of the
woods just yet.”
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