“Evie, get out of the car! Keep your hands up!” Johnny called. The other officers moved around to flank them.
“Dad, that woman with him is working for Hera. I think Alex is right. She might have told them anything.”
Her father’s car window hummed open. He leaned his head out. Alex held his arm, like he wanted to pull him back, and Evie nearly screamed at him.
“You, too, Frank! Out of the car!”
“What’s the problem, Johnny?” Frank said.
“Those men in the car, I need to take them in.”
“Why? What have they done?”
“They’re wanted. I’ve got warrants.”
Evie shouted out her own window, “Whatever that woman told you, it isn’t true. She’s lying. They haven’t done anything.”
Johnny glanced back at the woman. She didn’t move; her expression never changed. Three cops held guns trained on the car.
“I could arrest you for harboring terrorists. Both of you! They’re terrorists, Evie. You don’t want to help them!” His jaw clenched. He was close enough that Evie saw sweat on his face.
“I can’t do much against guns,” Arthur said softly. “Not that many of them, at least.”
“I can take as many bullets as you need me to,” Alex said.
Arthur muttered something that sounded like, “Good God.”
She’d gotten a citation from the President recognizing her patriotism. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this.
“Dad, get down,” she said, and put the car into gear. She stepped hard on the gas pedal, and the car screeched forward, hit the curb, bounced onto the sidewalk, then off it again as she cranked the wheel around. The officer who’d been standing there lunged out of the way.
Shots rang out. Evie flinched, ducking reflexively while still trying to steer. She hadn’t expected them to shoot. These were Hopes Fort cops—how often did they have to shoot in the line of duty? When did they ever have to stop runaway cars?
She squealed around the next corner and was five blocks away before the sirens started after her.
“The cops here are a little slow on the uptake, aren’t they?” Alex said.
“That’s Hopes Fort,” Frank said. “Is everyone okay?”
“I don’t think they even hit the car.”
Evie drove until the pavement gave way to dirt. One car screeched to a stop at an intersection to avoid hitting them, the only oncoming traffic they encountered. Once again, that was Hopes Fort. But the sirens—two or three sets of them—were getting closer.
A flash ahead caught her attention. One of the cars was approaching from the other direction. They were going to hem her in.
Out of town now, all around them lay barren winter fields, plowed clean, waiting for spring planting.
She hoped the sedan had good tires.
White-knuckled, glancing manically in the rearview mirror, Evie leaned the wheel to the right. The car slid off the road, listing as it rolled onto the shoulder, which sloped to a ditch. Steering a wide arc meant she didn’t have to touch the brakes, and she had no faith in her ability to execute a Hollywood turn-on-a-dime at high speed. In moments, she was driving across the field, spewing a cloud of dirt behind her. She checked her mirrors and couldn’t see the cop cars through the dust.
An honest-to-God car chase, straight out of an issue of Eagle Eye Commandos. Not to mention the larger-than-life heroes surrounding her. She couldn’t wait to tell Bruce about this.
Home was about five miles ahead. She’d never considered going anywhere else. No one argued, so she kept going. Home was safe; the others must have thought so, too.
“They don’t seem to be following,” Arthur said, twisting to look out the back window.
The police cars were still there: One stopped on the road, two others slid down the embankment to the field, where, near as Evie could tell, their tires were spinning. They were shrouded in a huge cloud of dust, which was getting farther and farther away. Hopes Fort police cars: ten years old and in need of new tires. Or maybe they had a little luck on their side. Merlin was still out there, after all.