Hunted (37 page)

Mark waited until he heard the first shot. The GC radio went crazy when the officer reported another unmarked citizen nearby. Mark counted four officers firing as Vicki passed. The female officer carried Ryan away from the van and placed him on the ground near Tom and Marshall.

As the other officers roared away in two of the squad cars, the female officer walked back to Cheryl, and Mark saw his chance. He raced down a slight embankment, careful to keep the van between him and the officer. Cheryl screamed for Ryan.

He reached the back of the van and knelt as the officer pushed Cheryl toward Tom and Marshall. Mark breathed a quick prayer. He wasn't sure what to do, but something told him to get Ryan first.

He duck-walked to the squad car, which was still running, and reached through the open window. He tried to throw the car into gear, but it wouldn't go. He glanced back and noticed Marshall had seen him.

“There's something crawling on my legs!” Marshall yelled at the officer. “Come over here and get it off!”

Mark quietly opened the door, got in, pushed the brake pedal, and put the car in drive. The car moved slowly forward as he scampered away.

As soon as Mark was hidden from view, Marshall shouted, “Hey, looks like your car's going on a trip!”

The officer cursed, and Mark heard footsteps approaching. When the woman passed, he sprinted toward his friends. Mark raced with lightning speed toward Ryan and with one swoop gathered the boy up and darted away.

“Marky!” Ryan said as they ran. The boy giggled, and Mark tried to quiet him. Finally, he put a hand over Ryan's mouth. Mark rushed behind a garage and peered out long enough to see that the female officer had stopped the car. Mark held Ryan tight while he rushed for the abandoned gas station.

Vicki gunned the engine and flew toward the hills. She couldn't see the sun yet, but she could see its effect. A trail of smoke rose from the top of the ridge. If she could reach the curve above her, which looked no more than two miles away, she had a chance.

She flicked on her lights and kept an eye on the rear-view mirror. Racing out of the small town were two squad cars, lights flashing.

Vicki sped up and hit a curve at full speed, her tires dropping off the edge of the pavement, then hopping back on. The squad cars gained ground, so she mashed her foot to the floor and flew down the sloping road and toward the hill. She had to slow to make the next curve, and the car bogged down and the engine revved.

A squad car pulled in directly behind her and another raced beside her. She glanced to her left quickly enough to see there was only one officer in the car. Sirens blared, and someone on a bullhorn ordered her to pull over. Vicki kept her hands glued to the steering wheel and looked to her right. The hill still blocked the sunlight.

“Pull over now!” an officer shouted.

Mark gasped for air and held Ryan tightly against his chest. The boy had giggled as Mark ran from the scene, as if they were playing a game. “Candy,” Ryan said.

Mark handed him a soft piece of candy and patted the child's back as they reached the gas station. He expected to see the squad car speed toward them at any moment.

“Marky!” Ryan said, looking around.

“Yeah, Marky's here. Now we need to be really quiet.”

Ryan put his hand out. “Blankie! Uh … uh! Blankie!”

“We're going to get your blanket, but we need to be quiet, okay?”

Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Blankie …”

Mark wished he could have helped Tom and Marshall, but there wasn't time. And if Conrad was right about the heat plague, he wouldn't have to stay hidden long before the GC officers realized the wrath of God.

The gas station was padlocked. Even the restrooms around the back were sealed shut. If anyone came out of their houses or happened to drive by, he and Ryan would be seen.

“Hey,” someone whispered.

Mark looked around. On a hillside were a few houses.

On the other side was a vacant lot with weeds and bushes.

“Over here,” a man said.

Mark focused on what looked like a manhole cover that was slightly open. A hand waved Mark forward. Could it be a GC trick? If so, why would the GC be hiding underground?

Mark looked at the street. No squad car. He hugged Ryan tightly and made a run for the hole. The cover swung open, and a man with a scraggly beard reached out for the boy.

Ryan grabbed Mark's neck and whined. “Scared! Scared!”

“It's okay, buddy. I'm with you.”

Vicki heard the ping of bullets off the back of her car and swerved to her right. The car shook, and she smelled something like rubber burning. A glance in the side mirror showed smoke rising from the car. The GC had shot one of her tires.

As she slowed, Vicki noticed sunshine creeping around the mountain. She floored the accelerator and pulled forward as far as she could. When she stopped, the front half of her car was in sunshine, the back in shadows.

“Get out and lay facedown on the pavement!” a GC officer barked.

Vicki opened the door, her hands in front of her. When she closed the door, one of the officers cursed and yelled for her to get down. Immediately Vicki felt a rise in temperature, not unbearable, but definitely hotter.

She lay down, her face near the pavement. The tar bubbled slightly. As a girl, she had ridden her bike on hot asphalt, and this reminded her of the sticky tar on her shoes and tires at the end of the day.

“I'm unarmed,” Vicki said. “There's no reason to shoot.”

“Shut up!” an officer shouted.

A man with a dark mustache keyed his radio, calling their partner who had been left behind. “We have the runner. Everything okay back there?”

A female officer spoke, her voice shaky. “The girl and two men are still here, but I've lost the kid.”

“What do you mean, you lost him?”

“My squad car must have slipped into gear while I put him down. When I got back he was gone.”

“I'm heading back there,” Officer Mustache said to the other two.

“All three of you'd better leave,” Vicki said.

Officer Mustache turned, his hand on his pistol. “I thought we told you to be quiet.”

Vicki pushed herself to a sitting position on the hot pavement and noticed that where her shadow fell, the pavement remained cool. “Has the GC contacted you about what's going on with the sun?”

The three looked at each other but didn't respond. Vicki pulled her knees to her chest. Trees on the other side of the road sizzled and popped. “You hear that? When the sun reaches you and your cars, what's happened all over the world is going to happen to you.”

“What's she talking about?” a younger officer said.

“You see how this road is bubbling? Look at the smoke behind me on the hillside. There's something going on here, and you guys had better pay attention.”

“Cuff her and bring her back to town,” Officer Mustache said.

The younger officer moved toward Vicki, pulling handcuffs from his belt. As he got closer, he stared at the bubbling asphalt. “Sir, this tar over here is—”

But Officer Mustache was already in his car, backing away and speeding down the hill.

The younger officer glanced at the trees. Every minute the sunshine inched closer.

“Go ahead and cuff her and get her in the car,” the older officer said.

“What if she's right about the sun? You know we had that report from the East Coast before we left the station.”

“Just cuff her and we'll get out of here.”

The younger officer walked toward Vicki, his face contorted. He took a step into the sunshine and lifted his boot. Hot, gooey tar stuck to it.

“Stand up and move over here,” the officer said.

Vicki remained seated. The officer threw the handcuffs to her and told her to put them on.

“You'll have to come over here and get me,” Vicki said.

“Go get her,” the older officer shouted.

The younger man pursed his lips, hesitated, then walked into the light. At first he didn't seem to have a problem, other than the sticky road. But when Vicki handed the cuffs to him, he screamed and dropped them.

Frightened, the man turned to his partner, holding his hand in front of him. “She made those handcuffs hotter than fire. It left a mark on my hand!”

“This is the fourth Bowl Judgment,” Vicki said. “The Bible says if you're following the evil ruler of this world, you're going to be scorched with fire.”

The other officer marched toward Vicki rolling his eyes. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and when he reached to retrieve the handcuffs, a blister raised on his forearm. The man cursed and moved into the shadows, rubbing his arm and sneering. “I hate your God and his plagues! No wonder Nicolae wants you and the rest of your kind dead.”

The officer reached for his gun and pulled it from its holster. By now the sun had moved forward, and the officers had to step back. Vicki scrambled to the other side of her car as the man fired.

“Come on,” the younger officer said. “Let's get out of here before it's too late.”

The officers hurried to the car and backed away, tires squealing.

Vicki breathed a sigh of relief. It would be a long day for the GC in Wisconsin.

35

MARK
crawled into the darkened hole and down rickety stairs. The man inside looked like a castaway from a deserted island. His clothes were dirty and tattered, his beard long enough to touch his chest, and his skin pale.

“You're takin' a big risk out there in daylight without the mark,” the man said. “Is this your little brother?”

Mark studied the man's forehead, but there was no mark of the believer or of Nicolae. “No, this is Ryan. The GC stopped his mom just up the street.”

“I knew you wasn't GC,” the man said. “Come with me.”

Ryan clung to Mark's neck as they walked through the room, ducked their heads, and went into another. Mark's eyes adjusted to the dim light, provided by some sort of lamp system around the room.

“Feels like it's gettin' hot out there,” the man said. “I've seen the reports.”

“What reports?” Mark said.

The man ran a hand over a computer and wiped dust from the screen. “I have to clean everything about once a day.” He flicked the computer on and called up images he had saved. Fires engulfed buildings along the East Coast. Scenes of horror Mark could never have imagined flashed, and Mark turned so Ryan couldn't see.

“I expect the same thing's gonna happen here, you think?”

“I'm pretty sure it is.”

“Then we need to get your friends off the street, or they'll get burned up.”

“There's only one way to make sure we don't get burned,” Mark said. “What's your name?”

“Clemson Stoddard,” he said, reaching a hand out. “I've been down here since the start of the big war. I was scared of the nuclear stuff at first, but then I kind of liked being out of sight. You're one of the first visitors I've had in ages.”

“What is this place?” Mark said.