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different line. I sense it." Mouse had turned to observe the progress of the
pursuing police cruiser. They weren't going all out. Not yet.
Beneath the hood the big engine rumbled. "They're catching up already."
"Relax, Frank." Burnfingers smiled confidently. "We will lose them."
Frank nodded ahead. "There's the on ramp. What do I do?"
"Ignore it. Keep going straight, through the underpass."
Frank sounded uncertain. "That's just a country road." Burnfingers's smile
widened and that was enough to start Frank's heart a-pounding. He clung to the
wheel for support.
The motor home shot beneath the freeway at sixty miles per hour. Now the
police cruiser had its siren going as its occupants realized their quarry had
no intention of pulling over voluntarily.
"Junction coming up," said Burnfingers. Frank stared into the night.
"What junction? I can't see a damn thing!"
He spoke too soon. It materialized out of the darkness, an unmarked fork in
the road less than half a mile ahead.
"Left," Mouse yelled, "and don't slow down!"
"Okay, okay!" Looking in the sideview mirror he could see one of the cops in
the pursuit car leaning out and waving wildly, his gestures unmistakable. He
wanted them to pull over and stop. What, he wondered, if they started
shooting? He was no stunt driver and the motor home no sprint car.
That's when he saw the fence, the barrier that blocked the road. A pair of
yellow warning lights flashed like cat's eyes in the motor home's high beams.
No wonder the police were frantically driving to stop him.
There was a roaring in his ears, like heavy surf banging a rocky shore.
He hung on to the wheel, paralyzed. Mouse yelled at him again and it struck
him that this was the first time he'd ever heard her raise her voice in
anything other than song.
"Keep going, Frank! Don't stop now!"
Behind him the police cruiser swerved and twisted across the road, honking
furiously, the two men inside doing everything possible to draw the attention
of the motor home's occupants as they wondered why it refused to pull over.
Frank flinched but didn't cover his eyes. The motor home smashed through the
flimsy highway barrier, sending splinters and warning lights and planks flying
in all directions. They vanished like feathers in the night. The pavement
vanished, too, and they found themselves screaming down a dirt road.
At the speed they were traveling, the motor home's suspension was no match for
rain ruts and potholes. Dishes flew out of cabinets to cartwheel wildly across
the floor. Plastic glasses bounced and tumbled like debris from a New Year's
party. Burnfingers Begay hung on as best he could while Mouse sat stiffly in
her seat, gripping the armrests with delicate fingers.
"Where are we going?" Frank shouted. He heard a loud crack. Something breaking
loose underneath, or were their pursuers finally shooting at them?
The night-shrouded terrain was rushing by in a wash of head-beam light.
"I'm not sure," Mouse told him, "but wherever it is, we have to get there."
Another barrier appeared ahead, blocking the road. This one was smaller and
had red warning lights flashing atop it instead of yellow. Beyond, the
mountains and dusty landscape disappeared.
"Keep going," said Burnfingers calmly.
Frank stared at the barrier, his foot easing off the accelerator. "Keep going
where? There's no more road."
Mouse leaned toward him, violet orbs flashing. "This is the way your family's
kidnappers have come. Do you want to find them or not? If we hesitate here we
may lose them forever."
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His thoughts fought one another like a couple of tomcats in heat as the motor
home continued to lose momentum. Behind him the wail of the siren lessened.
Apparently the police were convinced he was finally going to pull over. After
all, he had no other choice, did he? Frank turned to face her.
"How can I trust you anymore, after what you've dragged us into?"
She stared steadily back at him and her voice dropped to its usual breathy
whisper. "How can you not trust me?"
Frustrated, he turned to the motor home's only other occupant.
"Burnfingers?"
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