Out to Masons Hill.
It’s close, so close he could dash out of here right this second and run up it –
But that intention is less clear now. That feeling of release is gone, for the moment. The feeling that would have driven him up to the top.
To the edge of the sheer cliff.
They stopped him. In the nick of time.
And he considers this, too.
A boy and a girl, appearing from nowhere, stopping him just before he started up the hill, just before he met the black van.
Which also appeared from nowhere.
Did he call them into being? Did he make them arrive?
Just in time?
But Tomasz and Regine. Preposterous names, foreign, even here.
And the van. And the Driver.
What was that all about?
“Are you real?” Seth asks, quietly, almost to himself.
The boy nods a sympathetic yes.
“I know why you’re asking,” the girl says. “But the only answer I’ve got is that we’re as real as you are.”
Seth breathes. “What if that doesn’t feel very real at the moment?”
The girl looks like she’s understood him. “We really do need to get going. Are you coming?”
He doesn’t know what he should do, what he’s supposed to do. But there’s no denying that – whoever they are, whatever they might be – they feel a lot safer than the Driver does.
Seth says, “All right.”
32
Regine’s bike kicks up clumps of drying ash as she goes. Seth rides a short distance behind her, standing on the pedals. Tomasz sits on the bicycle seat, gripping Seth around the torso tighter than is probably necessary.
“I do not like this,” Tomasz says. “You are too tall. I cannot see.”
“Just hold on,” Seth says.
They ride through ashy streets, sticking close to where Regine and Tomasz’s original tracks are, watching for the van around every corner.
“Who was that?” Seth asks. “What was that?”
“Explanations later,” Regine answers.
“She saw it before,” Seth hears from behind his back. “She saw what it does.”
“Explanations later,” Regine says again, pedaling harder.
They ride around another corner, and another, making their way to the train station. The bicycle tracks in the ash are parallel to Seth’s footprints on the journey out. “You were following me,” he says.
“We were trying to catch you,” Tomasz says.
“How did you know where I was?”
“Later,” Regine snaps as they turn the last corner. “We’ve got to get away from – SHIT!”
The black van is there, waiting for them.
Regine swerves so hard she falls off her bike. Seth struggles to keep his own balance as Tomasz leaps off to help her. The van is down the road at an angle to them, clearly anticipating they’d come out from one of three streets. They’ve taken the one it obviously expected the least, but it’s already revving its engines to make the turn after them.
Though now that he’s got a full view, Seth sees that “van” isn’t the right word for it at all. Sleek and unearthly, its corners are rounded, its windows tinted so dark they almost seem of a single piece with the van itself. There are no other identifying marks on it at all. Even the ash and dust don’t seem to be sticking to it. It’s just a hard, cool piece of blackness in the gray landscape.
Just like the helmet the Driver was wearing.
Just like the coffin in Seth’s house.
“The bridge!” Regine shouts, righting her bicycle, not even pausing when Tomasz leaps on the seat behind her. “Before it can turn!”
She pedals off, unsteadily at first, but with increasing speed. She veers away from the front of the van, the quick dart of the bicycle skating past the bulkier vehicle, but that isn’t a matchup they’re going to win for long. Seth rides after her, leaping up on an ashy sidewalk to avoid the van swerving at him.
Seth can see the bridge she means. Down from the train station, the tracks go over a brick archway. It’s half collapsed onto the road below, but there’s a space on the right big enough for a bike to go through.
But not big enough for a van.
Seth pedals past Regine, who’s struggling with the weight of Tomasz. There’s a surge in engine noise, and when they look back, they see that the van has made its turn.
And is coming after them, at full speed.
“We are not going to make it!” Tomasz calls.
“Hang on!” Regine yells, her legs pumping frantically.
Seth looks back again. The van is bearing down on them.
Tomasz is right. They aren’t going to make it.
Without stopping to think, Seth veers hard to the right, sending up a wave of ash and turning back the way he came.
“What are you doing?” Regine screams.
“Go!” he yells back. “Just go!”
He rockets past them in the opposite direction, heading straight for the van.
“NO!” he hears Tomasz cry, but he keeps on, picking up speed.
“Come on,” he says as he rides toward the van. “Come on!”
It doesn’t stop or veer.
Neither does Seth.
“COME ON!” he screams.
They’re fifty feet apart –
Thirty –
The van’s engine revs –
And right before impact, it pulls violently to the left, hitting a cracked curb and skidding into the burnt foundations of a house.
Seth makes another hard turn in the ash. “Go! Go! Go!” he yells at Regine and Tomasz, who’ve slowed to watch him. She starts pedaling again and disappears into the narrow opening under the bridge. Seth hurtles after them. They hear the engine revving again, but they ride without looking back, through the darkened dip under the bridge and out the other side.
“Will it come after us?” Seth shouts.
“I don’t know!” Regine says. “We should get to your house and hide.”
“My house?”
“The next crossing point is a bunch of streets north,” Regine says, Tomasz still hanging on to her. “We don’t think it knows where you live –”
“How do you know where I live?”
“We’ll hide the bikes,” she continues, ignoring him. “It usually doesn’t come over to this side at all –”