Keeping his eyes fixed on the blockhouse, Lou took a couple of tentative steps into the clearing and then ran as best he could to the Mercedes, fired up the engine, and skidded from the parking lot. He had never been much of a car aficionado, figuring that the lust to drive high-end vehicles should be commensurate with one’s ability to afford them. But the Benz—the first he had driven in many years—was a car to dream about. With only the slightest punch to the accelerator, it sped ahead, sending a rooster tail of sand and gravel swirling into the still air.

Any confidence he felt about his improving situation was short lived. A hundred or so yards down the road he risked a glance into the rearview mirror.

Trouble.

The Cadillac, emerging like an enraged phoenix from a dense, swirling cloud of dust, was on the move. It looked as if there were two men in the front, but it was impossible to see behind them into the rear seat. The power of the Mercedes was more than he could easily handle, and he skidded several times from one side of the narrow road to another.

When he finally got the hang of the car, Lou jammed down the accelerator again, and the Mercedes shot ahead with a force that felt like several g’s. The Caddy kept pace, and actually seemed to be inching closer. Lou’s palms were soaked with tension-driven sweat. He was trying to remain composed, but he knew he was hyperventilating.

It seemed like only a second or two since he had checked behind him, but when he looked again, the Caddy seemed to fill the rearview mirror. Moments later, it slammed into his rear end, snapping Lou’s head forward like a whip. The Mercedes fishtailed several times before Lou was able to regain control.

Jarred and disoriented, he failed to notice the men—two of them, he could see now—had drifted to his left and were attempting to pull alongside him. He skidded in and out of a shallow drainage ditch and when he looked back, they had taken over the road. The bull-necked man in the passenger seat was grinning as he opened his window and raised his gun.

Instead of ramming into the side of the Caddy, which was Lou’s first instinct, he slammed on the brakes. The other car surged past him, and the bullets from several shots vanished harmlessly into the corn.

Clenching his jaws tighter than seemed possible, Lou spun the wheel to the right. Instantly, he was flying through a dense forest of tall stalks. He punched the accelerator and jounced violently ahead. Tall green Frankenstalks lashed at the windshield like the brushes in a car wash. The soft dirt stole much of the car’s traction, but miraculously the tires navigated the uneven, loose terrain. Somewhere out there had to be another road.