He leaned forward in his seat, squinting as he rummaged through a whirlwind montage of local history images. Seven seconds later, he returned to the present, with company in tow.
An eighteen-wheel truck materialized behind the police cars. The cab was deep black. Its liquid tank trailer was garnished with hazard signs. The cargo had been heptanoic acid, an organic compound used primarily for fruit soda flavoring. It also had a vital role in the production of black market cigarettes. On Christmas Eve, an aspiring bootlegger hijacked the vehicle and absconded down the freeway at 120 miles an hour.
This had all happened eight years ago. To local eyes, it was happening again.
The Silvers watched in stupor as the ghost truck overtook the cruisers, forcing both drivers to swerve in opposite directions. One slid into the guardrail. The other veered across the median, into southbound lanes.
“No!”
Hannah covered her mouth as a delivery van smashed into its trunk. The cruiser spun a full 360 degrees before hitting the opposite guardrail. The motor died in a shower of smoke and sparks.
As quickly as it arrived, the phantom tanker disappeared. David scanned the view out the rear doors, then emitted a weak chuckle.
“Wow. That was . . . I’d never done anything like that before. That was intense.”
The Silvers all regarded David with varying shades of disquiet. He quickly turned somber.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect him to cross into opposing traffic. That wasn’t my intent.”
Amanda knew she wasn’t in a position to judge after what she did to the Motorcycle Man. And yet a wary voice in her head reminded her that she hadn’t chuckled afterward.
Theo peered out at the other police car, which had already recuperated from its guardrail scrape. “We still have one on our tail.”
Hannah jumped in her seat as a highway patrolman appeared outside her door. His motorcycle was a powerful-looking machine, as thick as a horse. The driver was covered from neck to foot in a blue rubber suit.
“Shit. We have two again.”
“Three,” Zack corrected. He had a motorcycle cop outside his window too.
“I think these guys are wearing speedsuits.”
The floating wires of Mia’s memory connected. She rushed to the grate. “The motorcycles are going to speed ahead!”
“What?”
The suits of both patrolmen suddenly lit up with a mesh of glowing blue lines. The cycles shot forward in a hot blur. They disappeared over the horizon.
“How’d you know they’d do that?” Theo asked.
“I got a note.” Mia flipped to the last active page of her journal. “It said the motorcycles will speed ahead to set up a tempic barrier on the highway. We won’t be able to get around it, but Zack will know how to get through it.”
“What?”
“That’s what it said.”
“I don’t know how to get through a tempic barrier!”
“I’m just telling you what it said!”
The highway once again descended to ground level, splitting the north and south arteries around a thick strand of trees. A sign on the right announced the next exit a mile away. Zack was sure the motorcycle cops would raise the barrier before that. And now he couldn’t turn around.
Amanda gasped as if someone touched her back with cold fingers. Mia held her arm. “What’s the matter?”
“Tempis.”
The Silvers looked behind them as a long white panel extended from each door of the cruiser. The vehicle slowed down, leaving yards of empty space behind the van.
“What are they doing?”
“Isolating us,” David said. “We’re about to be boxed in.”
Hannah saw the motorcycles up ahead. The patrolmen had disembarked to set up a pair of thick metal posts on opposite sides of the road. With a flip of a switch, the space between them filled with solid white energy. It stretched across the highway like a tennis net.
Caught between the tempis and the trees, Zack had no choice but to step on the brake. Hannah eyed him nervously. “What now?”
“I don’t know.”
“This was your idea! Think of something!”
Zack watched the police car come to a halt. Two tall men in uniform stepped out, guns drawn.
“David, ghost the doors.”
“What?”
“The doors. The windows. We need them back now.”
“Okay.”
The policemen stopped, perplexed, as the missing doors to the van reappeared like magic. Hannah ran a hand through the clouded window next to her. Nothing but painted air.
“Does this mean you have a new plan, Zack?”
Yes. “No. I’m just buying time.”
The motorcycle cops approached from the front. They pointed their pistols at Zack and Hannah.
“Turn off the engine and get out of the van! Now!”
Taking a cue from the Scottish Twins, Zack aged the windows until the glass turned clouded and cracked. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. If his friends hated his last idea, they’d truly despise this one.
“Theo, do you still have Rebel’s gun?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You can’t do that!” Hannah yelled.
Zack raised his palms. “Calm down. I’m not going to fire it. I’m not even going to point it. I just need it for . . . veracity.”