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Twenty-five.
Thirty.
Sam weaved madly around an overturned van, and the bus squealed on two wheels.
Thirty-five.
“She doesn’t know we’re here; hit her, hit her!”
Forty.
The distance was eaten up in a rush.
Thirty-five.
“What are you doing?” Caine demanded. He was gripping the chrome pole with white fingers.
“I don’t know!” Sam yelled. “It’s not me!”
The engine sputtered. Coughed. And suddenly they were freewheeling.
“We’re out of gas!”
The bus slowed but did not stop.
Fifteen miles an hour and a hundred feet left. Gaia was smack in the middle of the road.
The engine caught! It found a last sip of gas and the bus jolted forward, and the instant before it reached Gaia she leaped nimbly aside.
The bus seemed to be moving in slow motion now. Caine saw Gaia twist, her face older, no longer quite a little girl, her eyes mad with fear and fury.
She raised a hand, and a beam of light stabbed through the bus, not a foot away from Caine, then burned right through seats, sidewall to sidewall. Acrid smoke filled the bus.
But Gaia was off balance and tripped. Sam slammed open the door. Caine swung to hang off it, raised one hand, and threw Gaia back. The bus veered, clipped a car, slowed further still, and Caine was out, running, stumbling, fighting for balance, trying to close the distance with Gaia when a punch of invisible force knocked him down flat on his back.
Through misted eyes Caine saw Sam jump from the bus, roll, jump up, and fire with both hands at once.
The beams were nowhere near Gaia: they fired without effect over her head.
Gaia raised both hands, laughed, and lifted Sam up and up into the air. Sam fired at her and burned furrows in the concrete.
Suddenly Sam fell.
He did not cry out. He didn’t stop firing. But he hit the concrete with a loud crunch. He cried out in pain, struggled, but did not rise.
Gaia walked calmly toward them, and Caine raised his hands to hit her with everything he had . . . and the inside of his head exploded. Caine fell to his knees, clutched his head, and screamed in unbearable pain.
“Gaaaahhh!”
Like knives. Like a wild beast tearing its way into his skull through his eyes. Like being crushed in some massive vise. It was impossible to believe nothing was touching him.
He shrieked. “Stop it! Stop it!”
But the pain did not stop.
Through a swirling migraine distortion Caine saw Sam pulling his broken body around to face Gaia. Gaia used her telekinetic power to lift the crashed van and drop it just in front of Sam, cutting him off from view, blocking his field of fire.
“Stop it!” Caine begged.
