"It's okay," I say, and for a minute I think of bringing John Smith up again, but I decide against it. It would create more friction, which I want to avoid. I miss the way we used to be. And it's hard enough living here without having Adelina angry at me.

Before she says anything further, Sister Dora hurries over and whispers something into Adelina's ear. Adelina looks at me and nods and smiles.

"We'll talk later," she says.

They walk away, leaving me to myself. I look back down at the boot prints, and a shiver runs up my back.

For the next hour I pace from room to room looking down the hill at the dark town cast in shadow, but I don't see the looming figure again. Perhaps Adelina is right.

But no matter how hard I try convincing myself, I don't think she is.

Chapter Seven.

SILENCE FALLS IN THE TRUCK. SIX GLANCES IN the rearview mirror. Flashing red and blue plays along her face.

"Not good," Sam says.

"Shit," Six says.

The bright lights and screaming siren rouse even Bernie Kosar, who peers out the back window.

"What do we do?" Sam asks, his voice frightened and desperate.

Six takes her foot off the accelerator and steers the truck to the right side of the highway.

"It might mean nothing," she says.

I shake my head. "Doubtful."

"Wait. Why are we stopping?" Sam asks. "Don't stop. Step on it!"

"Let's see what happens first. We'll never make it if we lead this cop on a high-speed chase. He'll call for backup and they'll get a helicopter. Then we'll never get away."

Bernie Kosar begins growling. I tell him to chill out and he stops, but he keeps vigil out the window. Gravel pings against the truck as we slow along the shoulder. Cars speed past in the left lanes. The cop car pulls to within ten feet of our rear bumper, and its headlights fill the truck's interior. The cop flips them off, then aims a spotlight straight through the rear window. The siren stops wailing but the lights still flash.

"What do you think?" I ask, watching from the side mirror. The spotlight is blinding; but when a car passes, I can see that the officer is holding the radio up in his right hand, probably running our license plate, or calling for backup.

"Our best bet is to flee on foot," Six says. "If that's what it comes to."

"Turn off your vehicle and remove the key from the ignition," the cop barks through a speaker.

Six turns off the truck. She looks at me and removes the key.

"If he radios us in, you have to assume that they'll hear it," I say.

She nods, says nothing. From behind us the officer's car door creaks. His approaching boots click bleakly on the asphalt.

"Do you think he'll recognize us?" Sam asks.

"Shhh," Six says.

When I look in the side mirror again, I realize the officer isn't walking towards the driver's side, and has instead veered right and is coming towards me. He taps my window with his chrome flashlight. I hesitate for a moment, then roll it down. He shines the light in my face, causing me to squint. Then he moves the beam to Sam, then Six. He forces his brows together, studying each of us closely while he tries to determine why we look so familiar.

"Is there a problem, officer?" I ask.

"You kids from around here?"

"No, sir."

"Ya care tellin' me why y'alls drivin' through Tennessee in a Chevy S-10 with North Carolina plates belonging to a Ford Ranger?"

He glares at me, waiting for an answer. My face feels warm as I struggle to find one. I have nothing. The officer bends down and again flashes the light on Six. Then at Sam.

"Anyone wanna try me?" he asks.

He's met with silence, which causes him to chuckle.

"Of course not," he says. "Three kids from North Carolina driving through Tennessee in a stolen truck on a Saturday night. Ya kids are on a dope run, aren't ya?"

I turn and stare into his face, which is ruddy and clean shaven.

"What do you want to do?" I ask.

"What do I wanna do? Ha! Ya kids are going to jail!"

I shake my head at him. "I wasn't talking to you."

He leans forward with his elbows on the door.

"So where's the dope?" he says, and then sweeps the flashlight across the interior of the truck. He stops when the light hits the Chest at my feet, then a smug smile spreads along his lips. "Well, never mind, looks like I found it myself."

He reaches to open the door. In one lightning-quick motion I shoulder-open the door and knock the officer backwards. He grunts and moves for his gun before he even hits the ground. Using telekinesis, I rip it away, bringing it to me as I step out. I open the chamber and empty the bullets into my hand and snap the gun shut.

"What the . . ." The officer is dumbfounded.

"We're not dealing dope," I say.

Sam and Six are out of the truck now and standing beside me.

"Put these in your pocket," I say to Sam, handing him the bullets. Then I hand him the gun.

"What do you want me to do with this?" Sam asks.

"I don't know; put it in your bag with your dad's gun."

Off in the distance, two miles away, the whine of a second siren reaches me. The officer stares intently at me, his eyes wide in recognition.

"Aw hell, you the boys from the news, aren't ya? Y'all are those terrorists!" he says, and spits on the ground.

"Shut up," Sam says. "We're not terrorists."

I turn around and grab Bernie Kosar, who's still in the cab because of his broken leg. As I'm lowering him to the ground, an agonizing scream rips through the night. I jerk around and see Sam convulsing, and it takes a second to realize what's happened. The officer has Tasered him. I tear the Taser from him while I'm ten feet away. Sam falls to the ground and shakes as though he's having a seizure.

"What the hell is the matter with you!" I yell at the officer. "We're trying to save you; don't you see that!"

Confusion crosses his face. I press the button of the Taser as it hovers in the air. Blue currents snap across the top of it. The cop scrambles away. I use telekinesis to drag him through the pebbles and trash on the side of the road. He kicks and tries in vain to get away.

"Please," he begs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Don't, John," Six says.

I refuse to listen to her. I'm blind to anything other than retribution, and I don't feel a shred of remorse as I slam the Taser into the officer's gut and hold it there for a full two seconds.

"How do you like it, huh? Big, tough guy with a Taser? Why can't anyone see we're not the bad guys!"

He shakes his head, his face locked in a horrified grimace, sweat beads glistening on his forehead.

"We have to get out of here fast," Six says as the red and blue lights of the second police car appear on the horizon.

I lift Sam and pull him over my shoulder. Bernie Kosar is able to run on his own on only three legs. I carry the Chest under my left arm while Six carries everything else.

"This way," she says, jumping over the guardrail and entering a barren field leading to the dark hills a mile away.

I sprint as fast as I can with Sam and the Chest. Bernie Kosar tires of hobbling and morphs into a bird and speeds ahead of us. Not a minute later the second car arrives on the scene, followed by a third. I can't tell if the officers are pursuing us on foot; but if they are, Six and I can easily outrun them even as weighed down as we are.

"Put me down," Sam finally says.

"Are you okay?" I put him down.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam is a little unsteady. Sweat beads his forehead, and he wipes it away with the sleeve of his jacket and takes a deep breath.

"Come on," Six says. "They aren't going to let us go that easily. We have ten minutes, fifteen at the most, until we're hiding from a helicopter."

We make for the hills, Six in the lead, then me, then Sam struggling to keep up. He moves much faster than when we ran the mile in gym class a few months ago. It feels like years ago. None of us looks back; but as soon as we reach the first incline, the howl of a bloodhound fills the air. One of the officers has brought a police dog.

"Any ideas?" I ask Six.

"I was hoping we could hide our stuff and go invisible. That would elude a copter, but the dog will still pick up our scent."

"Shit," I say. I look around. There's a hill to our right.

"Let's get to the top and see what's on the other side," I say.

Bernie Kosar zips ahead and disappears into the night sky. Six leads, stumbling wildly up. I follow behind her; and Sam, who is breathing heavily yet still moving swiftly, brings up the rear.

We stop at the top. Faint outlines of more hills as far as I can see, nothing more. Very softly I hear the trickle of running water. I spin around. Eight sets of flashing lights line the highway, sandwiching Sam's father's truck. In the distance, coming from both directions, two more cop cars are speeding towards the scene. Bernie Kosar lands beside me and turns back into a beagle, tongue dangling. The police bloodhound barks, closer than before. There's no doubt that it's following our scent, which means that officers on foot can't be far behind.

"We have to get the dog off our trail," Six says.

"Can you hear that?" I ask her.

"Hear what?"

"The sound of water. I think there's some kind of stream at the bottom of this. Maybe a river."

"I hear it," Sam chimes in.

An idea pops into my head. I unzip my jacket and remove my shirt. I wipe it across my face, my chest, soaking up every bit of sweat and scent I might have. I throw it at Sam.

"Do what I just did," I say.

"No way, that's disgusting."

"Sam, the entire state of Tennessee is hot on our trail. We don't have much time."

He sighs but obeys me. Six does too, unsure of what I have planned but willing to go along with it. I put on a new shirt and slip on my jacket. Six tosses me the soiled shirt and I rub it over Bernie Kosar's face and body.

"We're going to need your help, buddy. You up for it?"

I can hardly see him in the dark, but the sound of his tail thumping excitedly on the ground is unmistakable. Always eager to assist, happy to be alive. I can sense within him the odd thrill of being chased, and I can't help but feel it myself.

"What's your plan?" Six asks.

"We have to hurry," I say, taking the first steps downhill towards the running water. Bernie Kosar again turns himself into a bird and we race down, occasionally hearing the bloodhound bark and howl. It's closing the gap. If my idea fails, I wonder if I might communicate with it and tell it to stop following us.

Bernie Kosar waits for us at the bank of the wide river, which has a still quality to its surface that tells me it's much deeper than it sounded from the top of the hill.

"We have to swim across," I say. There's no other choice.

"What? John, do you understand what happens to the human body when it's in freezing water? Cardiac arrest from shock, for one. And if that doesn't kill you, then the loss of feeling in your arms and legs will make it impossible to swim. We'll freeze and drown," Sam objects.

"It's the only way to get the dog from following our scent. At least we'll have a chance this way."

"This is suicide. Remember for a second that I'm not an alien."

I drop to a knee in front of Bernie Kosar. "You have to take this shirt," I say to him. "Drag it across the ground as fast as you can, for two or three miles. We'll cross the river so the bloodhound loses our scent and follows this one instead. Then we'll run some more. You should have no trouble catching up to us if you fly."

Bernie Kosar transforms into a large bald eagle, takes the shirt into his talons, and speeds off.

"No time to waste," I say, gripping the Chest in my left arm so I can swim with my right. Just as I'm about to jump into the water Six grabs my bicep.