Meg took a moment to say a prayer over each of them before she had to force herself to soldier on. She yanked open the glove compartment, trying not to wince at Niche’s body and was relieved to find a Swiss Army knife, a pack of matches and an old wallet full of useless credit cards and seventeen dollars in cash. She took the cash, the knife and the matches and shoved them into her front pocket.
She hadn’t thought it through—what she was going to do. She only knew she’d have to leave the car and their bodies behind the thicket on the side of the road. She couldn’t stand the thought of being surrounded by death a second longer, so it never even occurred to her to take the car and drive. She was acting on pure instinct now, and her instinct told her to get moving. She opened her car door, and stepped into the morning light.
19 Escape from Cairo
Evan pushed the garage door opener and waited for the familiar rumble of the motor and squeak of springs. Instead, the three-hundred pound wooden door stayed put.
“Damn it!” Creed hissed.
Evan’s sharp eyes were already assessing the problem. “The RPG knocked it off its tracks. We’re lucky that’s all it did.”
“We have no time.”
The boys exchanged glances before they yanked their doors wide open.
“I can do this,” Creed frowned at Evan.
“Not like I can,” Evan lifted his chin, slipped the thumb on his right hand over the small rough cogs at the business end of the lighter and held the flame out to his right. The yellow light danced hungrily, eating the oxygen not already depleted by the noxious exhaust fumes wafting from the idling sedan.
“What do you need me to do?” Creed asked.
“Get back in the car.” Evan’s eyes were locked onto the flame, his left hand working anxiously at his side.
The moment he heard the car door shut, he reached out to the flame and seemed to pour the fire into his scarred hand. A smooth, orange ball hovered just above his palm for a moment before he hauled back and threw it at the wooden door. It didn’t just catch the wood on fire, it exploded on impact. A still-burning hole the size of the car was all that remained. With barely a glance, Evan turned to open his car door and, as an afterthought, reached out behind him. The remaining flames leaped from the wood and wove directly into his hand.
Creed waited until Evan had slammed his door closed before he revved the engine and peeled out of the garage through a cloud of blackened smoke that still hung like an abusive lover in the space that had been their home.
“Later, when we have time,” Creed yanked the wheel to the left, intentionally heading away from the designated meeting spot, “remind me to tell you how freakin’ awesome your gift is.”
“I gotta do this while we’re still within range,” Evan said, yanking the cell phone from his pocket and swiped his finger across the screen, waking it.
“How many do you think survived the RPG?” Creed asked.
“Two, maybe three C4s. We’re about to find out.” He typed a six digit combination into the digital keypad. “In three, two, one, detonate!”
A massive explosion rocked the hilltop sending what was left of the house sky high until all that was left was burning debris and ash plumes.
“I think we’re being tailed.” Creed clenched and unclenched his jaw, the muscles there working angrily as his eyes darted between the two-lane road and the rearview mirror.
“Well, we knew that would happen.” Evan glanced behind them. “Looks like it’s just one car. Wait, no—two. I see two black SUVs.”
“Yeah, I see them,” Creed growled, his eyes naturally sharper than Evan’s at night.
“Can you tell how many are in each?”
“Looks like at least four in the first vehicle,” Creed continued glancing back and forth between the road and mirror. “I can only see a couple in the second, but they keep swerving behind the first, so it’s hard to tell.”
Evan was leaning out his passenger window, his longish hair whipping violently in the wind. “We’ve got to lose them.” Exhaustion was getting to him again. The lack of sleep was something even a metahuman could only tolerate for so long.
“You okay?” Creed glanced over at Evan who had turned in his seat so he could reach out with his left hand.
“I will be. Slow down.” Evan called over the roar of the wind gushing in through his open window.
“What?”
“Slow the car down. Let them catch up to us.”
“Are you kidding?” Creed frowned.
“No.” Evan’s hazel eyes were framed with red from fatigue and even to Creed, the kid looked ten years older than fourteen.
“The sooner we get this fight over with, the sooner we can get to the billboard and meet up with the rest of the family. We need to get those three medical attention,” he nodded to the back seat. “Besides I don’t know about you, but I’m getting pretty damn tired of this run-and-hide shit!”
“You have a plan?”