Page 41

He guessed the windage as best he could, took aim carefully, exhaled, and took the shot. The drone lurched sideways, pieces flying every which way. Before it had even crashed to the ground, Gunner had taken off at a dead run for the cabin.
He burst inside, calling, “We have to go. Now. I’ll get Poppy. Run.”
Chas bolted out of the bedroom, his hair standing up every which way. “What’s up?”
Gunner scooped up Poppy, blankets and all, snagged her baby bag, which he’d repacked after supper, and ran outside without bothering to answer. There’d be time for that later, assuming they made it out of here alive.
Poppy started to cry, and he shoved her across the front seat to Chas as he started the car and hit the gas. They flew down the hill without headlights, and he was abjectly grateful he’d walked this road several times in his patrols and knew it reasonably well.
They hit the main road and he accelerated hard. Chas quieted Poppy with her pacifier and strapped her into her car seat. He flopped back down into his own seat, and Gunner said, “Look outside for me, Chas. Watch the sky for any drones.”
“Drones? Like kids’ toy helicopters?”
“That, or maybe bigger. Could be the size of a table.”
Chas leaned forward, peering into the sky. “It’s dark as heck. How am I supposed to spot a drone?”
“You’ll see a black silhouette against the stars.”
“Maybe you might see something like that. I don’t have x-ray vision, and we’re going about a hundred miles per hour.”
“We’re only doing eighty.”
“What’s the speed limit on this road? Half that?”
“Something like that,” he answered grimly. Gunner drove a few minutes, thinking hard. “Can you find me the nearest tunnel?”
Chas frowned. “Like where a road cuts through a mountain?”
“Yes. Doesn’t Pennsylvania have a bunch of them?”
“I guess.”
Chas started poking at his cell phone, and in a minute or so he said, “There’s one about forty miles south of here. Sidelong Tunnel. Over a mile long. It’s on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.”
“That’ll work. Give me directions to it.”
Chas called a couple of turns, and then they hit the turnpike, racing west on the mostly deserted highway at nearly the hundred miles per hour Chas had accused him of before. Drones might be maneuverable little bastards, but they weren’t all that fast. If he could outrun the drone and get under cover, he might be able to throw the hostiles off their tails.Ifhe could outrun it.
They never did see a drone, but the tightness across the back of his neck told him that one was likely up there, tracking them. His intuition was rarely wrong, and he trusted this one.
“There it is. The tunnel,” Chas said tightly as a brightly lit arch came into view ahead of them.
Gunner careened into the tunnel and went about a quarter mile before he slowed the car and pulled off onto the narrow shoulder. Then he turned off the ignition.
“What are you doing?” Chas squawked.
“C’mon. Grab the baby bag. I’ll get Poppy.” He quickly opened the hood and propped it up as if the car had broken down. Then, leaving her strapped in, he picked up Poppy, car seat and all, and lifted her out of the car. They crossed the center median quickly and stood by the side of the road.
Gunner made sure Poppy was clearly visible to any oncoming traffic, and as an eighteen-wheeler’s tall headlights came into view, Gunner waved his free arm over his head. The big rig’s brakes squealed as the driver came to a stop beside them.
“Got car trouble?” the driver yelled down.
“Yes, sir. We could really use a lift,” Gunner said in his friendliest possible voice. “It’s cold out here for the baby.”
“Get in,” the driver said.
Chas climbed in first, and Gunner handed up Poppy and then climbed in the high cab. “We really appreciate this,” Chas was saying warmly.