hadn’t noticed before: one held a bat and the other a gun.
Meyer spoke to Lila and Piper without moving his eyes (only slightly averted; they were sighting on the whole station rather than their group in particular) from the approaching kids.
“Get in the van.” He pushed the keys into Raj’s hand. “Raj, take the car. Hurry. And be careful.”
Raj looked up at the nearing group. They all did. The group had seen them, and was changing course accordingly.
“Take the car, Raj.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
Lila was dragging Raj through the open side door of the JetVan. Trevor followed, and Piper, keeping her eyes low, made for the passenger seat.
“Hey!” yelled the kid at the head of the group — the one with the bat. Beside him, the one with the gun (a girl, Meyer realized) was raising it.
“We don’t want trouble,” said Meyer, skirting around toward the open sliding door. Lila made to close it, but Meyer gave her an almost imperceptible wave, asking her to keep it open.
“Just wanna talk to you,” said the kid.
“I have to go.” Edging closer.
“Let us talk to you first.”
“I’m sorry.” Now Meyer’s eyes were flicking between them and the door. They were just fifteen yards off now, not running but moving with purpose.
“Nice ride you got,” said the girl with the gun. “I’d like to check that out.”
“Hey!” came a shout from the gas station.
Meyer fought the urge to turn toward the yell, diving for the door and scrambling into the driver’s seat while Trevor pulled the door closed behind him instead. The kids had all flinched toward the sound and now spun back, weapons up. They ran. Meyer braced for a shot, but the girl must have been too stunned to fire. He slammed the van into manual drive and stepped hard enough on the pedal to shoot gravel from behind the wheels.
They were away, safe but with five hearts thumping.
Meyer jockeyed the van onto the road from the shoulder, keyed autodrive, and closed his eyes.
He hoped things at the airport would be smoother. But he already had a niggling suspicion that this was only the beginning of an end, and that from here on out, things would only get harder.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Day One, Evening
Morristown, New Jersey
The drive to Morristown should have taken about an hour. It took nearly four.
In the van’s lush rear, the three teens lowered the seats to beds and slept. Despite it being just before three when they set out, Meyer wanted to sleep too. The day had been draining. He felt his body telling him to give up, lie down, and let whatever was going to happen, happen. The effort to fight the urge, even after all the thought and planning Meyer had given this moment, was enormous.
Piper stayed dutifully awake beside him, laying a comforting hand on Meyer’s arm as light bled from the day. With the sun down, everything seemed more peaceful despite the line of traffic — and, at the same time, much more ominous. They’d stopped just once, at another gas station, during a short stretch of clear road. The station had been deserted. The houses in the surrounding area were lit but graveyard silent. The feeling was one of waiting — as if those inside didn’t know what they’d face in the morning, but wouldn’t peek from their hidey holes in the meantime, just in case.
The station was, blessedly, fully automated and fully operational. Unlike the previous station (one of a dying breed; Meyer suspected the remaining gas station jobs existed solely to provide the neighborhood with a few extra paychecks), this one had no clerk — and therefore no one to rob. Payments were electronic; there was no cash on-premises. The foodmat inside was equally automated and light on provisions. In time, if things unfolded without peace prevailing, pirates would perhaps break into the foodmat and siphon gas from the station’s tanks. But for now, that