As William slammed on the brakes, the men began to run in their direction.

“They’re on my damn plane!”

William saw it, then: the landing skids of a helicopter on the other side.

“Turn around, turn around!” Quincy yelled.

William attempted a U-turn as the now-familiar sound of whizzing and popping resounded outside the car. The Porsche lurched perilously to one side.

“Drive on the rims if you have to!” Quincy yelled.

William grabbed the back of Quincy’s headrest to back up, only to slam on the brakes.

“What are you doing—” Quincy began.

Through the rear window William could see another black helicopter landing, its tail blocking the entrance through the gate.

“Oh shit,” he whispered.

The gray van, which had obviously hesitated as the men in suits rushed from the plane, now bounded across the pavement to drive up directly beside the Porsche.

The passenger side door opened, and a man wearing a ski mask jumped out, carrying a long rifle.

“Aw, come on!” Quincy said, fumbling for his glove compartment. “Who is that?”

The man in the mask yanked William’s door open, motioning with the barrel. “Unless you want to disappear forever, move your ass. Get in the van.”

“What the hell is this?” William asked. Through the windshield, he could see the men in suits were now halfway between the plane and the van.

“Now!” the man yelled, prodding him in the shoulder.

“OK, OK,” William held up his hands, sliding out. Lily scrambled across her seat and opened her door.

“Lily, don’t—”

“Everyone get out of the damn car!” the man yelled. “And drop the pistol, sir. It won’t do you much good against a semiautomatic.”

“Screw you, man,” Quincy yelled. “I’m not—”

Another man wearing a Richard Nixon mask had jumped out of the van’s side door, brandishing a revolver and running around the back of the Porsche.

“Whoa, whoa!” Quincy pointed at the plane. “I’ve got armed security right in that plane—”

“If you haven’t figured it out, your security is worth crap now.” The man in the Nixon mask yanked open Quincy’s door.

William stepped out and Lily immediately embraced him at the waist. “Lily, get back in the car—”

The ski-masked man pushed them towards the open door of the van. “Get inside!”

“Put your hands up and drop your weapons!” a voice from a bullhorn echoed through the air.

The men in suits had stopped, their pistols aimed. “I repeat: Put your hands up where we can see them and drop those guns, or we will have no choice but to open fire.…”

The voice began trailing off.

William realized the girl’s arms were no longer wrapped around him.

As in the cotton field, the men began to fall, one by one. With one hand still clutching his pant leg, Lily had raised her other and pointed. As she swiped across them, the men violently shook and crumbled.