Well, so much for getting out of here before the super-powered people started showing up. Now not only did we have several sedans full of very angry Breakwater assholes chasing us, but there was also a flying guy. At least he didn't seem to be one of the faster fliers. Sure, he was keeping pace as I floored the pedal and pushed the van up to seventy on our way down this quiet residential street, but I'd seen plenty on the news who already would have been able to catch up with us, tear the doors off, and haul us all out of the van before we could blink. Maybe we were lucky and Breakwater couldn't afford to send the real heavy hitters yet. It would be nice to have some luck during this whole situation, at least. Which probably wasn’t a very fair thought, considering we had the machine, plus we’d found Robert and a brand new TONI friend. But still, given what these guys would do if they caught up with us, I was hoping for a little more on the luck side.
Gripping the wheel tightly, I had to swerve around a tow truck that was pulling out of some guy's driveway. Probably his own. He leaned on the horn, shaking his fist angrily out the side window while shouting curses. Which just made me wonder what that guy thought was happening. He saw a van hauling ass down the street with several sedans and a flying man chasing after it. That hardly would've raised eyebrows back in Detroit, but something told me it wasn't exactly a common sight around here. He was probably calling the cops right now. How were they going to react to this? Was I about to have to avoid a bunch of local police along with the Breakwater people?
Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I took a sudden right turn onto a side street. Paige shouted something about there being a no outlet sign, but I ignored that. I wasn't here for the road. Instead, with our pursuers coming up right behind us, I aimed for the fence beside one of the houses on the far side of this cul-de-sac.
“Faster, faster!” Still perched on my shoulder and clinging there, Qwerty cheered while seeing the fence rapidly approaching. “Blow right through it! That thing doesn't stand a chance! Shred it!”
Robert, for his part, simply called, “I hope you know what you’re doing up there, kid!” He pointed his pistol out the back window he'd already broken and fired a couple shots that made the flying man swerve to one side, slowing him down just a bit.
I definitely knew what I was doing. Well, hopefully anyway. Telling myself it would all be fine, I focused on the fence and pointedly pushed my foot down harder. The van roared as it hit the curb, bouncing roughly before tearing up the grass. I had just a second to wince at how the owner of this place was going to react before we hit the fence and ripped right through it. Yeah, the homeowner probably wouldn’t like that either. By the time this was over, I was going to be the most hated person in Tooele, and they wouldn’t even know who I was.
Well, hopefully. If this went badly enough, they would know exactly who I was. But in that case, I’d have a lot more problems than some people who were mad at me for ruining their lawns and fences.
As soon as the van hit the backyard, I spun the wheel to the left and went right through yet another fence into the yard next door. There was a sandbox followed by one of those miniature wading pools, and we destroyed both on our way. Yep, definitely gonna be loathed here in Tooele. Somehow I doubted they would be giving me the key to the city anytime soon. Or recommending me for a driver’s license, if they had anything to say about it.
Obviously, I wasn't just destroying all these yards for fun. We went through two more of them before I quickly twisted the wheel to the right once more and sent us off an incline, between several large trees with barely enough space (as it was, several branches scraped loudly against the windows and the passenger-side mirror was broken off), and over a railroad track. The van jostled heavily, but held together while we flew into open air several feet above the ground on the far side of those tracks. All of us aside from Robert screamed as the van dropped, slamming into the ground. But the tires found purchase on grass there, and suddenly we were moving again. We were on the back field of some local school. The running track was to the right, the main building straight ahead, and to the left was the baseball diamond.
Behind us, the flying man shot out of the trees, with the sedans right behind him. Well, most of them. One of the cars slammed into the same tree that had taken our passenger mirror, and another came off the railroad tracks at too steep of an angle, slamming into the ground hard enough to fill the air with dark smoke. Neither of them would be going anywhere anytime soon.
Okay, so two cars down, three left. Plus the flying guy. We could work with that, right? Please let us be able to work with that.
Heading for the baseball diamond, I was just telling myself we had a chance here when the flying man abruptly picked up speed. Apparently we’d pissed him off, because he was suddenly catching up. By that point, he was close enough for me to get a good look at him in the rearview mirror. The guy was clearly pretty thin, wearing a dark blue bodysuit with black armored panels in important places, and a blue metal helmet with white eye lenses. There was no insignia or anything indicating who he was. Probably because he worked for Breakwater rather than acting as a normal Star-Touched. And even though I couldn’t see his expression, something told me the guy hadn’t picked up speed so he could hurry and congratulate me on my awesome driving skills. Which was too bad, because property destruction aside, I was killing it right now.
Oh, and he was wearing a jetpack. Well, what looked like a jetpack. It wasn’t projecting flames out the back or anything, but it definitely seemed to be the source of his flight. I didn’t know if he was a Tech-Touched, or just some guy using something another person created. Whatever it was, he definitely wanted to end this whole chase.
“Poise,” I tensely spoke up toward the girl seated beside me. “I think you better--”
“On it,” she agreed. With that, she hauled herself up and partway through the side window there, pointing a gun across the roof at the incoming flier. Watching the rearview while the baseball diamond rapidly approached, I saw him spin off to one side just as she sent several bullets flying that way. Robert, in the back, anticipated that move and actually hit the man with his own shot, though it bounced off his helmet. The impact was still enough to make the guy’s head snap back briefly and slowed him down. Which bought us just a few more precious seconds.
As soon as we hit the baseball field, I spun the wheel to stay on the baseline, following it all the way from home plate to first, then second, and back around to third. Our tires sent dust flying into the air, creating a thick cloud that the flier and three remaining sedans had to drive into. And just like that, we were heading straight toward the rear-most car as it reached home plate and started to turn the way we had gone, its driver partially-blinded by the dust.
Paige, who had dropped back into her seat by that point, gripped the armrest tightly while speaking through gritted teeth. “I hope you know what you’re--”
“Hang on!” I interrupted with a shout. With one hand, I reached up to grab hold of Qwerty so he wouldn’t go flying through the windshield. In the next second, our front left bumper slammed into the rear-left corner of the last sedan, spinning it around so hard its front end very nearly slammed into us as it came back around. But we were going fast enough that it barely missed, as the sedan went spinning out across home plate to slam down into the dugout. Its lower half was caught up on the bench there, as the engine screamed from the driver’s attempt to get going again. I could hear several voices screaming out for him to hurry up, and a handful of bullets ricocheted off the back of our van. They definitely weren’t playing anymore.
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Another sedan was down. Meanwhile, the other two cars and the flying man had reached the far side of the dust cloud. Any second now, they would realize we weren't ahead of them, but behind. Especially with the screaming and shooting coming from the guys in the third car. But we were already hauling ass once more, back the way we’d come. Or at least somewhat. I angled the car to head more toward the running track, and the parking lot beyond it. A glance in the rear view showed those two remaining cars doing quick U-turns, while the flying man inverted in the air and came right after us once more. If they hadn’t been angry before, they sure as hell were now.
Letting go of Qwerty so I could grab the wheel once more, I sent the van up and over the low grassy hill leading onto the track. Once again, we were sending up a dirt cloud that blocked the people behind us from seeing very well. Though something told me the same trick wouldn't work twice. They were going to be on the lookout for us to turn around. Which was exactly what I wanted. If they were holding back, anticipating the same move, they wouldn't be pushing so hard to catch up. With any luck, I was making them second-guess themselves.
Of course, that was when we got the bad news. As we launched off the track and headed through the open gate to the parking lot, a dozen cop cars came skidding around the corner of the street ahead of us and into the same lot. So yeah, now the local authorities were involved. Fantastic. And we still had the two Breakwater sedans plus the flying guy behind us. This whole thing was just going swimmingly.
Okay, thinking the word ‘swimmingly’ was clearly a bad idea, because it would be just like the universe to decide the best thing to do next would be to send us right into that stinky lake, and I didn’t want to give it any ideas on that front. As if it needed any help from me.
The twelve cop cars coming at us had spread out a bit, already trying to block us in. I felt a rush of apprehension, but pushed it down and focused. A slight twist of the wheel to the left sent us just past the first car, its front bumper passing our rear one within a couple inches while the cop inside leaned on his horn, sirens already blaring deafeningly. The instant we were past that, I spun the wheel to the right, cutting back that way. Which put the left side of the van directly in the path of the cop car coming up behind that first one. But as I’d expected, that guy reflexively hit the brakes just enough to stop from hitting us. And a very slight adjustment to the left sent our van right between the next two cars over, passing them perpendicularly just ahead of the nearer one and just behind the further one, with barely enough space left on either side. Seriously, I was pretty sure you couldn’t fit a finger in the area between all of our bumpers.
At the very instant that we were past those two cars, I hauled the wheel left once more, braking just a touch. The van slipped directly between the last two vehicles that were in our way, coming so close that the sides of our vehicle crashed right through their mirrors, sending up a loud, protesting sound of screeching metal. It was a good thing this van was reinforced, or it probably would’ve fallen apart on us already. We were going to have to send a big thank you card to the guys Paige had hired to deliver it. Maybe even a gift basket of our own.
Either way, we were through those cars. I had managed, however barely, to thread the needle between all of them. Now the cops and the Breakwater sedans were in each other’s way. I had no idea how that was going to go, and we weren’t sticking around to find out. Instead, I floored it once more, sending the van out the same driveway the cops had just come in through. To one side, I could see a bunch of students standing around the front and side doors of the school. The sun was just barely starting to come up, so just how early did they start classes around here? I had half a mind to send the school district a link to all the studies about how students should be getting more sleep than that.
But uh, yeah that would probably have to wait.
Of course, even with the cop cars and sedans needing to separate themselves and turn around, we still had the flying man to deal with. He came right over that whole mess, flew up a bit higher, and pointed some sort of rifle our way that he had pulled off one side of his jetpack. I wasn't sure what it was, but still jerked the wheel to the left just as we hit the street. It was a good thing I did, because whatever the man was pointing at us sent a beam down that struck the chain-link fence there and ripped it halfway out of the ground. He fired again just as I shoved the wheel to the right, and a big blue mailbox was sent flying. It was some sort of magnetic cannon. Which was probably going to do bad things to our very-metal van if he managed to hit us.
“Distract him!” I shouted toward Robert and Paige while thinking quickly. Okay, right, I knew what to do. The question was whether we could pull it off. Actually, that wasn't a question. We had to, no matter what. So, while those two fired several shots to keep the flying man from getting a good aim at us with that magnetic cannon thing, I gritted my teeth and sent the van flying down the street once more. If I remembered the layout of this city from what I’d seen on the map right, there should be a good place for what I had in mind coming up in just a couple blocks. Assuming we made it that far.
On the way, I used one hand to carefully pick Qwerty off my shoulder and bring him around to my face. “You said you could glide, right? Can you help us out here?” I didn't feel great about sending the little guy into danger, but he really was our best shot of this.
For his part, the tiny bird-squirrel bobbed his head rapidly and saluted. “Put me in, coach! I’m ready to kick some ass!”
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to do much kicking,” I promised, just before twisting the wheel to send the van down the next street. It was a neighborhood on a steep hill, and I kept the pedal floored while telling our new TONI friend exactly what I needed. Beside me, Paige made a noise of uncertainty and apprehension, but didn’t say anything. Robert remained silent too, aside from reloading his gun to send several more shots at our friend with the jetpack, forcing the flier to pull back just a bit.
While he was distracted with that, I put my left hand against the door and sent an orange line down under the seat and all the way through the front area where Paige and I had our feet. If this was going to work without tearing the whole van apart, we needed all the protection we could get.
It was now or never. As we reached the top of the hill, I twisted the wheel to send us to the right, going through the backyard of one of the houses yet again. I really was a menace to property values. The van ripped through another fence, crushed a couple flower beds under our wheels, and completely destroyed a bird feeder while I continued to spin the wheel, sending us back through the yards of the same houses we had driven past a second earlier. But that was okay, in another second, we weren’t going to be in any yards anymore. We weren’t going to be on the ground anymore.
“Hang on!” I shouted once again, gripping Qwerty in one hand while sending the van up over an incline on the side of the hill. With the roar of the engine, we shot out into open air, tore through some branches in a tree, and were suddenly face to face (err, face to windshield?) with the flying man. He definitely hadn’t been expecting that, and quickly dove to one side. But even as he went, I gave Qwerty a hard throw that way, out the window. The bird-squirrel spread his wings with a scream that seemed half-maniacal, half-joyous. He went flying right over the other man, took a sharp turn, and glided down after us.
For our part, the van didn’t exactly stay in the air very long. Right after we passed our flying pursuer, we hit the ground. I activated the orange paint just in time, but we still landed pretty hard, crashing down onto the pavement at the base of the hill. Ahead of us, the cop cars and Breakwater people were still extricating themselves from that parking lot, with a lot of shouting and threats being hurled back and forth.
Our flying man, meanwhile, had already inverted in the air. He lifted that magnetic cannon, ready to take advantage of the fact that we were momentarily motionless. But in that second, the crystal bomb thing that Paige had given me before I went into that house, the one I had handed Qwerty, exploded right where the TONI had tossed it. Namely, in the flying man’s pocket. A sudden electricity-draining pulse filled that hundred feet around the man. Not only did that kill the gun he was holding, it also drained whatever he was using to fly. The man dropped out of the sky, crashing and rolling along the ground.
With the flying guy dealt with, and the cars back in the school lot still sorting themselves out, I reached out with one arm to give Qwerty a spot to land. He glided in, half-crashed into my hand before scrambling back inside, and blurted, “Now that’s falling with style, assholes! Whooo! Come get some!”
“Can we get out of here now?” Paige pressed, eying the mess of cars across the way.
“Yeah,” I agreed, already turning the wheel to head the other way. The street was completely clear ahead of us.
“Trust me, I’ve had more than enough of this town for awhile.”