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Back Whirlwind Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

Where did he take her? Where is she right now?

South, Gisco responds, and starts dog-paddling for shore.

South, where? I follow up. New Jersey? North Carolina again? Are you going to try to trick me to the Outer Banks a second time? How do I know that you didn’t kidnap her yourself? No, I take that back. I don’t think even you would stoop that low. But I know how tricky you are, and that you’ve got your own agenda. Tell me one thing: if this evil warlord from the far future kidnapped P.J. to even the score with me, how can you be so sure she’s still alive? Give me some concrete proof!

Proof, shmoof. Gisco is twenty yards away, dog-paddling for all he’s worth. The Dark Army will send reconnaissance. It’s swim-or-die time.

I hesitate a second more and strike out after him.

15

15

Now I know why they call it the crawl. I’m fighting the cold current as I inch my way toward the rocky bank. I must have lost my police cap when I dived off the boat. I reach down and unclasp the gun belt and let it drop.

Gisco is in front of me, setting new swimming speed records for convalescent canines.

We don’t communicate. We’re both too busy trying not to drown. But his words echo in my mind as I stroke on, trying to ignore the ache in my arms and shoulders.

P.J.’s still alive! But she’s in the hands of some fiendish five-star general from the future! And he’s taken her to get back at me! Which means it was my fault that she was targeted. And she’s south, whatever that means.

I’m freezing and utterly exhausted when my toes scrape the river bottom. Soon I’m hip-deep, then knee-deep, and finally I’m completely out of the cold Hudson.

Where to now? I ask Gisco. South to find P.J.? Who is this evil commander who took her? Does he have a name?

No time now for explanations. Let’s just get away.

Where?

Anywhere. The dog shakes out his fur, and water flies.

How?

However.

That’s your plan? Mindless, headlong flight?

You got it, the huffing, puffing dog acknowledges, as we leave the rocks and fight our way through scrub brush. The Dark Army knows where we just were. I guarantee you they’ll come roaring upriver and find us in minutes. The more we run, the more visible we make ourselves.

Then why don’t we just crawl into a hole and hide?

Because the more we hunker down and stay put, the less chance we have of ever getting away.

So we’re screwed? I ask.