He had to assume that they must be invested all through northern California, from the border to the Bay Area and into Big Basin. And who knew what kind of presence they had elsewhere? Maybe there was only the one colony, but maybe there were many others. Maybe they were coming up in the night, stealing people, using their skins and organs and eyes—and what of their brains, their souls?

From behind him there came a thud, and an orange glow filled the air. There was no reason to look back—the car had exploded. Good.

The flames would also attract Gina’s attention, no question. She would be up there in Washington right now, getting field reports and not being satisfied with them, not if there was no direct evidence of his body being found.

His heart hurt because Gina had turned on him. He had to admit that he’d been nursing a fantasy that she actually had some feelings for him. But she was making this a two-front war for him, the fool. Beautiful fool. He made a small, complicated sound as he ran, of longing, of regret, of frustration.

The human voices from the town became more frantic, calling on God now. He tried another jump, but there was no sense of flight, not like before. Why not? He didn’t know. He knew so little—too little—about himself.

The car was burning, though, and the hybrid driver was dead, so he had flown, no matter how surreal that now seemed.

Maybe he did have some of the abilities of the hybrid. Of course it was possible. There were all sorts of genetic capabilities these days. This man—“Father”—had apparently known him when he was a small child. Fine, maybe he’d received some genetic alteration, and maybe it was the explanation for his skills. But that was physical. It had nothing to do with who he was. The part of him that was human was his heart and soul, and that was what he was going to live by.

He moved on through the forest, pressing himself harder now, going as fast as he could toward the town. He was aware of the presence of Linda and Pete just to the west about five hundred yards, and that they saw him, also, and were going into motion. He hoped that he could trust them to time their entry right. When he reached the edge of town, he slid his hand into his pocket and closed it around the handle of his knife.

He stepped closer to the source of the screaming, which was the restaurant, the Glade. The high agony of children that he was now hearing so distressed him that he had to force his emotions back. Combat was math, not feelings.