The Flight of the Silvers

“I told you. We’ll get them.”

 

 

“How? By leaving them behind? By moving in the opposite direction from where they are?”

 

“They’ll be all right in the short term.”

 

“Then why did David hear one of them screaming?”

 

Theo’s fingers twitched with stress as the cartoonist’s wrath echoed down the tunnel. If Zack knew the sisters were at the mercy of Evan, he’d make a hot dash back to the building. The decision would not end well for him.

 

“I care about them as much as you do, Zack.”

 

“I’m not doubting your motives. I just don’t understand what’s happening with you. Eight minutes ago, you were barely lucid. Now you’re floating around like a Level Ten deity.”

 

“No deity,” Theo insisted. “Just a Level Two augur. I’ll explain when we have time.”

 

He stopped at the next ladder and noticed a dead brown mouse on the floor. There it was, just as he’d seen in the God’s Eye. He glanced up at the square metal cover.

 

“Okay. This is the one. It’s welded shut. You’ll have to do your thing again.”

 

Zack moved to the ladder and launched his temporis upward. In the dim light of the tunnel, his friends could see the otherworldly glow in his skin and hair, the mighty white beam that burst from his hand. Clearly Theo wasn’t the only one who went up a level today. Mia wondered how many ascensions it would take before the people she loved started looking and acting like true gods.

 

They emerged into a delivery alley two blocks north of the office building, a thin and lifeless corridor full of concrete ramps and tempic pallets.

 

David lowered Mia from his back, then scanned the street at both ends. “Where to now?”

 

“Nowhere,” said Theo. “We wait here.”

 

“Won’t be long before the Deps expand their search.”

 

“We’ll be gone before that happens.”

 

Zack opened his knapsack and cursed at the sight of Mia’s pink journal. He’d grabbed the wrong bag in the rush to flee the office. Every last cent of their money was back in the building.

 

In the light of day, Mia could see the huge patch of blood on Zack’s shirt. My blood, she thought, with heart-pounding distress. She moved closer to look but was gripped by a sudden violent sickness. The others watched in concern as she dashed behind a truck ramp and threw up the bacon and waffles that Hannah had cooked in Quinwood.

 

David stroked her back. “You all right?”

 

She wiped her mouth, grimacing at the mess she made. “I’m okay.”

 

While Zack pondered the side effects of his temporal healing act, Theo fell into grander worries. The Mia he’d seen in the God’s Eye hadn’t vomited at all. Something happened differently. Events had changed.

 

He checked David’s watch, then fixed his restless glance on the eastern exit. “He should’ve been here already.”

 

“Who?”

 

Theo was afraid to answer. Now that they were off the gilded string, his faith in a perfect outcome fell to rubble. Maybe their ride wouldn’t show up after all. Maybe Hannah and Amanda—

 

“Someone’s coming.”

 

The silver van gleamed with sunlight as it sped down the alley. With each approaching yard, the vehicle looked less like a DP-9 cruiser and more like their old Royal Seeker. Were it not for the New York plates and slightly altered chassis, the group might have wondered if their beloved chariot had come to life and followed them.

 

Theo pressed down David’s gun. “Put it away. We’re good.”

 

“Wait. Is that—”

 

“Yup.”

 

“The real one?”

 

“Yes,” Theo said, through a weary smile. “That is most definitely him.”

 

He’d seen Peter Pendergen in enough visions to know the man by sight. Their futures were hopelessly entwined, a twisting braid of kinship and conflict, smiles and shouts. At the moment, the man was nothing short of golden. He was the first glimpse of sunshine after a very long storm.

 

The Seeker pulled to a halt. The window rolled down. Now the others could see why Rebel cast Bruce Byer as Peter’s impersonator. The two men could have been siblings, with their hero’s jaws, their boxer’s noses, their feathered brown hair and rugged lines of experience. There was a marked difference in the eyes, however, a deep blue soulfulness that Bruce lacked and Peter had in spades.

 

He shined a handsome smile at Theo, both cheery and glib.

 

“Don’t tell me I’m late ’cause I already know.”

 

“Just glad as hell to see you.”

 

“Likewise, Theo Maranan. You have no idea.”

 

Peter’s deep and sandy voice danced with Irish inflections. His “T’eo Maernin” nearly chipped a daffy grin on David’s face.

 

“How did you find us here?”

 

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