As he approached the center of the town, the red of the traffic light began to change, but slowly—much too slowly. Confused, but being careful, he watched it dim to a dot and then disappear, replaced as slowly by the gradual bloom of the green.

Then, at a crawl, what had been waiting, an elderly Buick, began creeping toward him, its engine booming like a great, slow cannon. At the same moment, he saw the driver and knew by his rigid posture, eyes straight ahead, that this was one of the creatures.

He started to move toward the car, but it suddenly sped up, shooting past him with tires screaming.

He was disoriented. This made no sense.

Then it did. It had to be adrenaline, a rush like the one he’d experienced when he saw his men in trouble in the woods. He’d moved extremely fast in that moment, but he’d blown it off, telling himself that it had been the shock that had enabled him to do it.

Hybrids flickered like that. People did not.

He watched as the car disappeared around a bend, its lights absorbed by the forest. Where might it be going?

Then he knew: Linda and Pete were in those woods, and it had placed him in an impossible position. Either he went after the car and saved them, or he entered the town and saved the people who were screaming.

He thought quickly, calculating. His most logical option was clear: He had to take out the car. If he lost his people, he would be isolated and, in the end, lose this battle.

It hurt in his heart and in his blood to turn his back on that agony, but the car was already disappearing down the road. He followed it, pushing himself until it felt as if he were falling and running at the same time. Tremendous effort was involved, his muscles so tight he thought they might separate from the bones. As he strained, the car’s engine howled, speeding it forward. It shot like a bullet when the highway was straight, then went rocking through the curves. He was fast, but he was a running man and this was a car, so he kept losing ground.

Still, he did not stop. He couldn’t, he had to fight this thing to a win or to the death, and he could not lose the last of his people.

Then something happened that he had not expected, any more than he had expected going into the ultra-high-speed state they’d been calling flicker.

This was not flicker, though. It was, rather, a swooping, tumbling rush through the air. Wind roared in his ears, then he hit the roof of the car with a clanging thud. He clutched at the slick metal, but he could not stop himself from falling backward until he was on the trunk.