But as they’d sped out of the Garrett Mall parking lot on Rory’s father’s Harley, Sandra had noticed an interesting development. All but one of the Arrivals that had been pursuing her had given up the chase.

One by one, they had either slowed down, or stopped altogether right where they stood. The lone car still after them—a green one—wasn’t keeping up. Granted, the Harley had superior pickup and handling skills, but this Arrival didn’t seem to have its heart in it.

And then, checking her mirror, she saw the green Arrival turn into a driveway, pull up close to the house, and stop.

What the hell?

Ahead, a yellow Arrival turned onto the street, coming their way.

“Hang on!” she said, veering off the road and seeking shelter in the narrow gap between two houses. She stopped the bike and killed the engine. The car might have seen them, but now that they were off the road, there was no sense in letting it hear them, too.

They both turned around and watched to see whether the Arrival would turn off the street in pursuit, even if the space between the houses was too small to allow it to reach them.

But the car did not turn. The Arrival rolled right on by.

“Maybe it didn’t see us,” Archie said.

“It saw us,” his mother said. “It had to have seen us.”

Using her feet, she pushed the bike back out into the open so they could see where the car had gone. About ten houses down, it had turned into a driveway and nosed itself right up to the house, just like the car that had trailed them as they left the mall.

Sandra got out her phone, brought up Joe on her texting program, and sent a message.

U did it!

She waited to see if Joe got the text, and whether he would be able to reply. Soon, she saw the three dancing dots.

Then: Did what?

She wrote back: They’re stopping. Like they’re out of gas.

Joe replied: Couldn’t disable virus. No idea what’s doing it.

Archie, who’d been looking over his mother’s shoulder as she exchanged messages with the police chief, said, “Not gas.”

“What?” said Sandra, looking away from the phone.

“Battery power,” he said. “They must be running out. Like a phone down to one bar. While they still have power, they’re heading home to get plugged back in.”

Sandra started to smile.