BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (e book reader txt) 📕

driver's door, and herpalm met the cold, smooth finish. She glanced over her shoulder.

There was no one else down here. No one would hear her.

"Oscar—open the door."

Without pause, the locking mechanism released the door, and itdrifted upward. The dashboard console glowed as it came online. She duckedunder the door and dropped into the firm faux-leather seat. It smelled likehim, as she knew it would. She closed her eyes and breathed in, pretending hewas right there beside her. A comforting thought.

"Destination?" the computer droned as the door closed,locking itself automatically.

Irena didn't know.

TWELVE

 

Now

The night was cold and dark, and they didn't really want to beoutside. Braving the freaks was one thing, and they were accustomed to it.Quoting the Wayists' holy words kept them at bay—like garlic against thevampyres of olde. Some said it was because Way-followers were known to be good to the undesirables,providing them with food and clothing, other necessities. Why stab the handthat feeds you?

Outside though, up on the surface, things were different. It wasanother world. The monsters wore long black coats and boots and carried chargedprods that would set your insides on fire. They delighted in the torture theyadministered, the sadists. Hard to believe they were the peacekeepers. Federalpolice, courtesy of NewCity's provincial governor and all-around fat cat,Joseph Reeves. A real son-of-a-bitch, by all accounts.

"How much longer?" Paul dug his hands deep into thepockets of his jacket and bobbed in place, his breath puffing out beneath theglow of a single streetlamp above them. His eyes watered. "I'm freezing myass off here!"

Peter flexed his large hands, then curled them into fists—onelacking both its index and middle fingers. "I don't like it any more thanyou do, brother. He can die a miserable death, for all I care."

"Father wants him to live." Mary cupped her hands overher mouth, her breath warming them.

"Of course," Peter rumbled, struggling to keep hisresonant voice low. "Does no good to complain about it. So for now, wewait."

"You'd think he would've been able to give us a more precisewindow of time. We've been waiting out in this cold for what, an houralready?" Paul coughed raggedly, his stooped shoulders quaking.

Peter shook his head. "Twenty minutes."

"Father said they would pass this way." Mary nodded withconfidence. "They'll be here."

"How's he know?" Paul sniffed, noticing Mary's frowndirected at him. "You think he can track us? Like we're chipped orsomething?" He cursed. "So he's following Cade's movements."

"You would call into question—?"

"Just making an observation is all," Paul retorted."Anything wrong with that?"

"Father knows what he's doing." Peter folded his brawny arms."And we have our instructions, whether we like them or not."

Paul didn't look convinced. "Nobody's been through here, nota single car. Why would they?"

"Father says they use thisshortcut all the time on their way toheadquarters." Mary glanced down the narrow side street then back up,negating the certainty of her words with a furtive look.

Paul wiped at his wrinkled protuberance of a nose. "We give 'em ten moreminutes. Then we get the hell out of here." He snorted. "I can't feelmy damn toes!"

"Bad circulation," Peter muttered.

"I'm not as old as I look, brother," Paul countered."I've got maybe a year on you, tops."

"Easy to forget." Peter almost grinned.

"We're the same," Mary mused, half to herself. "Different only on the outside."

"What'd she say?" Paul hopped from one foot to theother. "What was that, Mary?"

She stared at the broken asphalt between her shoes.

"In her own world again," Peter offered.

"Do you think he's like us?" she broke from her briefreverie. "Close to our age?"

"That albino?" Paul scoffed. "Only ifFather hatched him around the same time as the rest of us."

Her eyes brightened. "Do you think—?"

"Quiet." Peter held out his hand, the one missing twofingers and sporting a bandage stained black.

They heard the auto headed their way long before they saw it.

"Just one?" Mary asked with a quizzical frown.

Peter nodded. "From the sound of things."

"Father said there would be two vehicles." She staredinto the darkness beyond the streetlamp's reach.

Gravel from broken asphalt pinged against the vehicle's tire wellsas it bounced through potholes and came toward them fast, headlights glaring.Peter stepped out into the middle of the street, scowling at the oncominglight, fists clenched down at his sides.

"What are you doing?" Paul hissed, backing into theshadows.

"I have no choice," Peter rumbled.

"Father's directive..." Mary said, unblinking.

The driver of the unmarked sedan saw the large black man standingin his way. He didn't brake. He floored the accelerator instead.

"Peter!" Mary cried.

"Be still." Peter's eyes did not leave the vehicle as itbore down on him. Would it swerve around him at the last instant? Impossible.These side streets were too narrow, wide enough only for the side mirrors ofthe car to pass without scraping against concrete buildings on either side.

Mary's face twisted with confusion. She looked ready to run out ofthe shadows and join her brother. The car was almost upon him. "Fatherwouldn't have wanted this."

Peter reached one hand inside his long coat. When it reemerged, he gripped the hilt ofCade's short sword, left behind when he'd disappeared into the past.

The driver clenched the steering grips in both hands and bracedhimself for impact with a tight grimace. But he could never have preparedhimself for what happened next.

Just when it looked as though the bumper and grill would crushPeter's body basked in the headlights, Peter launched into the air, clearingthe hood and slamminginto the windshield with sword in hand. The glasscrumpled on impact, dislodged from the vehicle in a single curved sheet thatpinned both the driver and the passenger against their seats. Peter kept hisweight against the plastiglass and reached inside, seizing one of the steeringgrips and jerking it to the left, sending the vehicle against the concrete wallwhere it screeched violently, skidding along at full speed. The driver cursedand pounded his fists against the glass, his foot firmly ensconced on theaccelerator.

"Brake, you fool!" Peter glanced over his shoulder. Theywould soon reach the end of the street. Up ahead, cross traffic on the wideboulevard waited for them to make their grand entrance. "Brake!"

He pushed the grip as far as it would go, and the vehicleshuddered, sparks