The three of us scramble to our feet. My knees quake. Threaten to go out from under me.
My uncle's joined Madeline.
He's helping to turn all of Evansburg.
My mouth falls open. Words refuse to form. I gag on syllables. Choke on vowels.
“A…Allie,” he manages. He pleads with his eyes, with his shaking arms.
I grab Tommy’s arm, turn, and run.
“Allie!” Uncle Cassius calls after me. And then, to someone else: “Give me the van keys!”
Grass slaps at me. Tommy pants and keeps pace, glancing behind him. Dorian does the same. I pump my arms. I won’t look back. I can’t look back. My sides threaten to explode. My legs burn.
Behind us, a car starts. Doors slam. They’re coming after us.
Dorian jabs me in the arm. “We can’t run for the road. They’ll wait for us there.”
He’s right. We stop in the tall grass. The tree line where Tommy’s car is hidden is up ahead. We can’t lead Madeline to it, or we’re not getting out of here. And if we can’t escape, she could still turn Tommy no matter what Uncle Cassius says. It’s a thought I can’t stand.
I suck in a breath. “We’ve got to lead them in the wrong direction. Tommy, hide. Madeline can’t turn you if she doesn’t know where you are.”
“But—“
We’ve got seconds before they round the curve and see us. There’s only one option. “Get down!”
I push him down into the tall grass, which swallows him. It’ll have to work. He stays down, hugging the ground. They won’t be able to see him from the road.
Dorian waves towards the trees. “This way.”
We run back the way we came, then turn towards the clump of trees behind it. We’re heading in the opposite direction of the car. My chest heaves. We’ve got to lead them as far from Tommy as we can.
Their car—a maroon van—rounds the curve and honks at us just as we reach the tree line. Doors open again. Uncle Cassius calls for me. His voice echoes over the field behind me and fades.
“Kids!” Kyle calls. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Don’t believe them,” Dorian says. He grabs my hand and pulls me deeper into the trees. Someone crashes through underbrush behind us. My legs burn. Branches slap at my face.
“Allie! I’m sorry!” Uncle Cassius calls. He’s after us, too.
I glance back. I can see three figures struggling through the underbrush after us. They’re not going anywhere near Tommy. It’s working. Even if they catch us, Tommy can go for his car and escape.
“Crap,” Dorian puffs.
We stop. We’ve reached the end of the trees. There’s an enormous ditch in front of us, big enough to swallow an elephant. Beyond it lies an open field that I can’t see the end of.
“Fan out!” Madeline orders behind us.
Underbrush crashes to our left. I look at Dorian and nod. We’ve got no choice but to head towards the road.
We run along the ditch now, closer to where Tommy’s car waits. We’re not going to get out of here.
The trees open up, and the trail snakes towards us. We’re back where we started. And worse, the maroon van’s gunning its way right at us.
Dorian and I stop. My heart sinks. We’re cornered. “It was worth a try,” I huff.
The van stops and the door flies open.
It’s Tommy at the wheel. Tommy!
“Get in!” he yells.
Dorian and I scramble into the van just when Kyle and Uncle Cassius burst out of the trees. I slam the door. Kyle pounds his fist on it right when Tommy guns it again, leaving him behind.
I sit there, holding the door closed and sucking down lungfuls of air. “Tommy…how?”
“They all ran in the woods after you,” he says, gripping the steering wheel so tight it might break. “They must have thought I was with you, because they left the keys in the ignition.”
Dorian slaps him on the arm. “Nice, man! Now they can’t follow us out of here. I didn’t see any other cars out there.”
Tommy grins. “Hey, all those hours I’ve logged with Grand Theft Auto came in handy.”
I can’t share his enthusiasm. “Keep going, Tommy. If Madeline knows you’re at the wheel—“
We roll over a huge bump and I bounce in my seat. We’re at the road now and Madeline and her henchmen are way behind us. So is that poor farmer guy lying unconscious in the weeds. There’s nothing we can do for him.
And so is…
Tommy stops and opens the door. A lone pickup truck speeds by.
“Leave the van, but take the keys,” Dorian says. “We don’t want them calling the cops on us.”
“Like they’re going to do that after they kidnapped a guy?” Tommy argues. But he yanks the keys out of the ignition and jumps to the ground. Dorian and I follow.
Tommy’s car is still hidden in the tree line. I climb into the back, curl up, and bury my face in my arms.
Let tears stream out like a baby.
Tommy fumbles with his keys and turns on the engine. Dorian climbs in next to me. I taste salt but hold in the sobs. Pain tightens in my chest. It’s an agony far worse than my past two transformations.