Prey
Chapters (23)
- Cover
- Also by Stephen Cole
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
Cover
Also by Stephen Cole
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Also by Stephen Cole
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The Wereling trilogy
Wounded
Prey
Resurrection
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The Thieves trilogy
Thieves Like Us
The Aztec Code
The Bloodline Cipher
Dedication
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To Jill
Chapter One
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CHAPTER ONE
The full moon shone in on Tom Anderson through the truck window. It felt like a searchlight, hunting him down. He shifted his weight on the rough, pitted leather of the back seat, squirming clear of the blazing light while still pretending to be asleep.
He hated hitching rides, especially at night. The moonlight put him on edge, made him feel shivery and sweaty and caged in. Feigning sleep spared him the ordeal of making conversation with the over-curious truck driver.
Not that he was exactly the focus of attention around here, with Kate up front in the passenger seat. There was no doubt in Tom’s mind that it was Kate who had brought the truck screeching to a halt on the highway out of Philadelphia. Tall and slim and dressed all in black, her long dark hair whipped about by the cold November gusts, she was like a secret weapon in the world of thumbing lifts.
Good job. They needed to get to New York fast.
Opening his eyes a fraction, Tom snuck a look out of the window. Beyond the trees that lined the Palisades Interstate Parkway he saw about a billion pinpricks of light stacked in long, tall grids against the night. They were nearing the city – but maybe not fast enough, Tom decided, as the big, bearded driver stole another lingering glance at Kate.
‘So, how come a sweet thing like you is hitching, anyway?’ The trucker kept smiling to himself, like he was quietly smug at being able to balance his oversized gut on his knees and make conversation at the same time.
‘Well …’ Kate shrugged. ‘Hitching’s cheap … and I guess me and Tom just enjoy the freedom.’
Freedom, Tom thought bitterly. Sure: freedom to creep and crawl through this horrible new life that had been thrust on him. Freedom to live in fear, constantly looking back over their shoulders. Waking and wondering if today was the day their pursuers would catch up with them at last.
They had to keep moving, to keep one step ahead. But since they didn’t have the cash for a bus ticket past Philly, Kate – practical and determined as ever – had dolled herself up and they’d hit the highway. He knew she hated to hitch, loathed the way these long-distance drivers looked her over, like wolves salivating over their next meal.
Nice analogy.
Tom shifted irritably in the seat once more.
‘You kids are pretty young to be on the road, now, ain’t you? How old are you, sugar?’
‘We’re both eighteen,’ Kate answered. ‘Taking a year out before college next fall.’