Germ

Stephen stood over him, startled by his own abilities. He bent and picked up the pistol and shotgun. Freckles had landed flat on his back on the car's hood, one leg stretching into the hole in the steps. His sport coat had flopped open, revealing an underarm holster. Stephen took that pistol as well. He saw the outline of a billfold in the coat's inner pocket and tugged it out. It flopped open, revealing a badge. Hamilton County Sheriff's Department. He slipped it into his back pocket. He took a few paces toward the woods and threw each weapon into the darkness. He checked the other man for ID and didn't find any. Then he strode into the cabin, calling for Allen. He found the bathroom door shut and locked. He shouldered it open. Allen's bare feet were slipping out a small window over the old-fashioned tub.

"Allen!" Stephen leaned over the tub to look out. Allen was scampering away on all fours, gripping clothes in one hand, a pair of shoes in the other. "Allen!"

He stopped and cranked his head around.

"Come around front, man," Stephen said.

He walked through the house and stood on the porch. Neither assailant showed signs of revival. He stepped off the porch and leaned into the Vette's open window. He came out with keys and a device that was larger than a cell phone and had a foot-long cylinder jutting from it. Stephen recognized it from Blue Planet, one of his favorite shows: it was a satellite phone, good almost anywhere in the world, not reliant on local networks or relay towers. The phone was tethered to a box that looked like a modem with a keypad. He had no idea what it was—he must have missed that episode. He turned around to see Allen coming out of the breezeway where he'd parked the Vega.

"Oh, wow," Allen said. "Oh, wow. You did this? Wow!"

It was the first smile he'd seen crease his brother's face that night. He pointed at Freckles. "That one's a cop."

"What?"

"Had a deputy sheriff's badge."

Silence.

"I don't think he was here as a cop, though," Stephen said. "He tried to shoot me without saying a word, and this is no cop car."

Allen swore.

"Get in the car. I'll be right there." Stephen took a step toward the woods and hurled the keys deep into them.

"What was that?"

"The car keys."

"What? Why?" Allen asked. "We should take their car. It's a lot nicer than yours. Look at it."

Stephen thought about it. "Too late now."

"What are those?" Allen asked, pointing.

"A satellite phone and some other gadget."

"Well, don't throw those away. Maybe we can use them."

"How?"

"I don't know, but we need to find some advantages here, right? You never know. What would it hurt?"

"Whoever these guys were communicating with can probably track the signal," Stephen said.

"Then turn it off. We'll turn it on to use it now and then when we're moving, so they can't pinpoint us."

Stephen was doubtful.

"Come on, man. We need something.'"

"All right, here." He handed the equipment to Allen. "Now get in the car."

He jumped over the porch steps and clomped into the cabin. A minute later, he came out carrying a paper sack. He switched off the cabin's overhead light and shut the door.

When he climbed into the Vega's driver's seat, Allen asked, "Where are their guns?"

"I chucked them."

Allen threw up his hands in exasperation.

"What would you do with guns?" Stephen asked and cranked the ignition. After some coughing and sputtering, the engine backfired once and settled into a fitful rhythm. He moved the stick shift into first gear and eased the Vega out from between the two buildings.

Allen threw his hand in front of Stephen's face, pointing. "Look!" he said.

The mustachioed cop was leaning into the car, pulling at something behind the seats.

"What's he doing?" Allen asked.

"Can't be good." He popped the clutch and pointed the lurching Vega at the road.

The man ducked out from within the car and stood, a weapon in his hands. It looked like the kind of thing Arnold Schwarzenegger favored, like it could blast holes in mountains. The man scowled at Stephen and Allen.

"Go! Go! Go!" Allen screamed.

The car fishtailed, moved closer to the drive.

"He's cocking it or whatever—!"

They came off the gravel, onto the dirt road, sliding between the first trees.

Metallic thunder filled the air. Trees exploded around them. Gas pedal jammed, Stephen glanced at Allen and saw only impossibly huge eyes.

Clouds covered the moon, drawing darkness over the road. For a moment Stephen had the wild idea that it was symbolic, God's way of portending their deaths. The car jolted sideways as a barrage caught the rear panel behind Stephen's seat. A jagged hole opened up on both sides of the car. Then Stephen swerved around the first bend, knowing they were invisible to the assailant now. All the same, he drove like the devil was on their heels.

After several miles, they crossed an ancient wood bridge over Chickamauga Creek.

"Where's the road?" Allen asked, as though he thought the assailants had taken it. "The paved road?"