The pickup screamed into the driveway, spitting gravel. Amelia and Tom ducked behind the nearest quad bike. He peered out. Rhys jumped out of the passenger seat with the rifles. As Griffin stepped out, Rhys handed him one. Griffin opened the tray and the dogs bounded out, doing loops around each other, barking.
“Could they send the dogs after us?” Amelia whispered. “Are they those kinds of dogs?”
“They’re tracking dogs, used for deerstalking, mostly. Some kind of Lab-Retriever-Pointer cross.”
“Tom?” Rhys called out, scanning the house. “That you? We heard a big crash.”
“And gunshots!” Griffin shouted.
“No kidding,” muttered Tom.
“Tom?” Griffin yelled, while Rhys whistled to the dogs. “Tom, if it’s you, yell out.” He said something to Rhys, and they had a low, urgent conversation. Only a few phrases reached Tom’s ears:
“He knows, Griff. I swear, he’s got to know.”
“Don’t worry about that. We just need to find him, okay?”
The dogs were sniffing the ground, tails wagging, jerking their heads up now and then to bark. One headed off around the far side of the house, following the path Tom and Amelia had taken.
“Mac’s caught a scent,” Rhys called, following him. “C’mon Griff.”
“Shall we run?” Amelia whispered.
“We’ll never make it to the wood,” Tom replied, jumping on the quad bike and beckoning her to follow.
“You can hotwire this?” she said, landing behind him.
“The keys are in the ignition.”
“They’ve left the keys in it?”
“Who’s going to steal it, out here?” He passed her the shotgun. “Hang on to me, tight.”
“Wait half a sec,” she said, slinging the gun onto her shoulder. She leaned over to the other quad bike, which was parked alongside, and pulled the keys from the ignition. “Okay, go!” she said, straightening.
He waited for her arms to close around him before he started the bike, then turned the throttle to gun it out of the shed. He banked it hard left, heading for a well-traversed farm track that led up to the wood. It was a less-direct route than the one he and Amelia had taken across the field, but less exposed. The shed would shield them for the first few minutes—hopefully long enough to get out of firing range. Over the gunning engine, hemade out shouting and barking. He hunched, bracing for rifle fire. He felt Amelia twist in the seat, as if she were looking behind.
“I can’t see th— Wait, now I do. The guy in the blue puffer. He’s just standing there shouting at us. And here comes the other one.” She narrated as the brothers disappeared into the shed, and then reappeared, having evidently discovered the keys to the other quad missing. “They’re getting back in the pickup, loading the dogs. Can they follow us on that?”
“Not as easily as with the quad, but the pickup will be quicker. The track ends at a pond about three-quarters of the way to the house. We can go on foot from there.”
“Won’t their dogs follow our scent?”
“That’s why we need to pull ahead.” She was right, of course. Wherever he left the quad bike, the dogs would be able to track a direct path to him and Amelia.
They reached the canopy, and he took a cold breath that tasted of damp earth. The first part of the track, which went through the eastern side of the wood, was windy and undulating enough that it kept them out of sight of the pickup. Amelia occasionally caught a glimpse, but never for long before it ducked out of view.
Tom pushed the quad hard, bumping and swerving along the soft ground. He knew he was driving right on the edge of disaster—tipping it, rolling it. But there was a long, straight stretch coming. If he didn’t pull far enough ahead, the brothers would get a clear shot.
“Uh, Tom? Is that the gas gauge?” She pointed at a dial on the little dash.
“It is.”
“It’s nearly empty.”
“I did notice that.” He’d also noticed the engine getting sluggish. He dodged a tree, throwing them both to one side.They were almost at the straight, and not nearly far enough ahead. Perhaps he could let her off earlier and carry on, as a decoy. But then that would dump her in the middle of unfamiliar territory, fending for herself, if he didn’t manage to lose them and catch up to her. If only he could let them both off and the bike could magically keep going by itself. Which was impossible, of course, because it would have to hold down its own throttle.
Or maybe not impossible.
