Free Reckoning by James Byron Huggins Page A

fluttered open. In a daze he rose, staggering, and fell into the open side door that she quickly closed behind him.
    The van howled as they roared up the street, but New York City police units, lights flashing and sirens hot, skidded to a stop, blocking the exit.
    "Police!" Barto yelled. "They can—"
    "No!" Sarah shouted above the protesting van and the scream-in code equipment. "Not now! Get us out of here!"
    The van skidded wildly as it caught a narrow alley and charged into the night. Gage was semiconscious, and she wrapped her arm around his neck, holding his head off the bumping panel floor. Behind them blared the code equipment of police in pursuit, and then Gage stirred, seeming to rise toward consciousness. His bloodied right hand reached up to grab the seat. Half-awake, he rolled his head.
    "Hang on!" shouted Barto.
    Sarah screamed as the van left the ground, pitching forward at the front before blasting its way through a wooden wall. The van crashed to the ground once more and beneath the floor panels she felt the tires spinning on loose gravel, fishtailing, and then climbing, rising on a steep incline. Behind them, the sirens fell back.
    Barto killed the headlights, and the van spun chaotically through the darkness, trees scraping and limbs thumping off the side panels. Sarah knew that he had somehow gotten them off the campus, as well as any semblance of a road. Then the van hit a summit, left the ground and came down again, the windows shattering completely at the impact to shower the interior in a thousand flying shards of slicing white light.
    The freezing night roared through the interior, and Sarah pulled Gage closer.
    Barto hurled the van into a wild downhill run, twisting, sliding, spinning the wheel with the dexterity of a true virtuoso. Then the vehicle bottomed out, wheels rebounding forever between the van frame and ground, until the tires finally found purchase and entered another roaring, leaning climb.
    Barto floored it, quickly ascending through the smashing, grinding gears. Sarah saw lights growing nearer, then the van swayed, hit smooth pavement, and they were in traffic again. Barto leaned forward, smiling, eyes bright with excitement.
    Sarah turned her face from the icy rush of wind, skin already numb. But she felt Gage stir, awakened by the cold air. He struggled to raise himself, to watch.
    Barto didn't seem disturbed by the wind in his face. He continued to lean forward, eyes narrow and peering, hands clutching the steering wheel. His round shoulders were bunched, aggressive, focused.
    He didn't look back, didn't slow down.
    For half an hour they raced through the night. In her arms Sarah felt Gage relaxing, even as he lay against her, her back against the door. Finally the lights along the highway seemed to grow thinner until they were driving through the darkness, away from the city.
    Gage shifted, studying Barto.
    "You're the translator," he rasped.
    Barto executed a smooth lane change, exiting the highway. Busy.
    Malachi spoke loudly. "Yes, Bartholomew was our translator in the desert. He was the last of the three. Now we are together."
    Gage said nothing, stared at Barto.
    "Where'd you learn to drive?" he managed.
    Barto looked over his shoulder, smiling insanely, clearly enjoying his job. "Beirut," he yelled back, eyes gleaming.
    Gage shook his head, leaned back against Sarah, sighed.
    "We've got to ditch this thing," he said.
    "Good idea," Barto called back, nodding, squinting into the wind. "Where?"
    Gage licked his lips, shifted, moaned in pain. "Go east ... I've got an LTD in storage ... at Patterson."
    Barto looked back over his shoulder and nodded. Gage was struck by the excited eyes that glared down at him through the thick, tinted glasses.
    Malachi bent over Gage, moved the coat aside, and studied his chest. A large patch was torn from his shirt, and Sarah saw that a white, fibrous cover, a ballistic vest, was also torn from the impact of the bullets. The old man helped lift him