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“Merde,” Louis said, locking up the brakes on the electric van and throwing us in reverse.
“What’s happening?” Kim cried.
“We’re not waiting to find out,” I said, twisting around in the seat to look out the rear window and see the other car, a blue Peugeot, coming fast in the other lane.
A bald, pale man in a studded, red leather jacket hung out the passenger-side window. He was aiming a rotary-magazine shotgun.
