She leaped blindly into a car moving through the intersection, grabbing the driver, swinging off of him, and hurling herself into a car moving in the other direction. She grabbed hold of a passenger in that car, then pushed off again, leaping into the air, this time catching a passing truck driver. She bounced from one vehicle to another, playing a human shell game. She was sure Squirrel couldn’t keep up, but Milos was another matter. She knew he was surfing just as deftly as her, so Allie surfed random and wild, until landing in the passenger seat of an SUV, diving deep inside a fleshie.

—Late—late—we’re always late—it’s not my fault—it’s his fault—it’s always his fault—why do we always have to be late –

Allie wedged herself behind the woman’s thoughts, digging in, certain that she had lost Milos three or four fleshies ago. She could hide here until she was far enough away to peel out and not be noticed.

Then the driver, a bald man with bad skin, turned to her and said, “Be sensible, Allie. All this fuss is getting you nowhere.”

He let go of the wheel and grabbed Allie with both hands. Allie struggled, and the car veered off the road.

“Watch out!”

Horns blared, the car jumped the curb, flattened a mailbox, and rammed into the corner of a restaurant. Airbags blossomed from almost every angle, cushioning the two fleshies, but Milos and Allie were hurled out of their hosts, and into the crowded restaurant they had crashed into.

Now everything depended on how quick Allie’s reflexes were. Before she even hit the ground she reached out and grabbed someone—a waiter, still shielding his face from the crashing plate glass window. His thoughts were loud and panicked.

—what the—who the—how the—whoa is that a car—am I alive—yes—am I hurt—no—okay keep calm—keep calm—keep calm—

Allie hid within him, silent and still.Everyone jumped up and scurried deeper into the restaurant to get away from the accident—everyone except for a single woman who stood there scanning the room with eagle eyes. It was Milos.

“Come out, come out whoever you are,” said the eagle-eye woman. “Ollie-ollie-axen-flee.”

How stupid, thought Allie, if she gave herself away by correcting Milos’s English. She lingered in the waiter, not taking him over, otherwise Milos might notice. She just hid inside him as he tried to herd diners out the door.

“This way, c’mon, everything’s going to be fine. Is anyone hurt?”

Milos walked right past, and the second his eagle-eye fleshie was looking the other way, Allie left the waiter, hitched a ride in an exiting diner, then raced down the back alley. Finding herself on another street, she hopped into a man in a mustang who was fiddling with his radio—