An Artificial Night

Given free rein on the open highway, May was embracing her inner race car driver. It didn’t help that she had no idea how to control her speed, and was thus opting for as fast as the car will go. The children’s screaming tapered off as they stared out the windows, awed. They’d probably never been in a car that was trying to break the laws of physics before. I was just afraid they were going to learn what a twelve-car pileup looked like, from the bottom.

Andrew had his nose pressed against the glass, watching wide-eyed as the Riders began closing the distance between us. “Look, Auntie Birdie,” he said, “the men are going faster.”

“That’s nice, Andy,” I said, finally letting go of Spike. It climbed over the seat to curl up in Jessica’s lap. She was one of the few that was still asleep. I hoped she’d stay that way. If the screams hadn’t been enough to wake her, maybe she would.

“They’re followin’ us.”

“Yes, they are.” They were getting closer fast, weaving in and out of traffic with a speed my little VW couldn’t hope to match. I tried to run down my options and couldn’t think of any. We had no place to go. We’d outrun them, or we’d die.

He turned to look at me, frowning. “Why?”

“Because they’re mad at me, sweetie. Now hold on tight, okay?”

He smiled at me, nodding. “Okay.” I love kids. They’re endlessly adaptable, and not as breakable as we think.

My Fetch wasn’t handling things nearly as well. She swerved between two trucks with a heart-stopping squeal of the brakes, wailing, “Am I doing this right?”

“You’re doing fine! Keep driving!” Maybe I was afraid she’d kill us all, but I was a lot more worried about Blind Michael’s men. They weren’t the sort who’d negotiate once they’d run us to ground. They might be willing to lop our heads off and take them home as trophies instead of torturing us, but that was probably about it.

“Aunt Birdie? What’s going on?”

I winced at the sound of Jessica’s voice. “Honey, just hold on. We’re on the way home.”

“Aunt Birdie—”

“Not now, sweetheart!”

“The bridge is ending! The bridge is ending!” May shouted, slamming her foot down harder. The car sped up. I hadn’t known that was possible. “Now what do I do?”

“Take the first exit!” I turned to look out the windshield, bracing my hands against the dashboard. “Turn right and head toward the warehouses when you get off the bridge!”

May nodded, nearly falling over as she dragged the wheel to the right. The car wasn’t cooperating, and I couldn’t blame it; if she’d been trying to steer me, I wouldn’t have been terribly cooperative either. Connor whimpered, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut as we swerved off the bridge and down the street, barely avoiding a collision with a commuter bus. Five of the Riders managed to change direction and follow us; the other two missed the turn and went shooting off down the bridge, trapped in the flow of traffic.

“Two down!” I shouted, jubilant. “Take the first right and floor it!” Turning, I elbowed Connor. “Look for things to throw.”

He uncovered his face, eyeing me. “What?”

“Look for things to throw out the window. Clothes. Cans. Whatever.”

“Why?”

“Distraction!” The rest of the explanation was lost as May found the turn and roared around it without slowing down. For one dizzy moment it felt like the car was going to flip over. I fell back against my seat, accompanied by a chorus of giggles and cheers from the back. At least some of us were enjoying the ride. Turning my attention back to the windshield, I choked. We were driving straight for a brick wall, and May wasn’t stopping. I caught my breath, and shrieked, “Turn around! Turn around! Turn around!”

She turned and blinked, keeping the gas pedal pressed down hard. “What?”

In unison, Connor and I shouted, “Watch the road!”

“Okay . . .” May shrugged as she looked back to the road, and then yelped in surprise. “Toby, there’s a wall!”