“But will you be safe?” Torri asked anxiously. “Cops in this country are armed, you know and they will shoot you. You have to be careful, Vic!”
“I will be as careful as I can but as you say, we cannot let them stop us,” he said grimly. “Look there—that’s my ship.”
He pointed to a Scenic Lookout up ahead. It was just a small, curved parking area on the side of the main road that looked out over the side of the mountain. Tourists like to stop there and take pictures of the sweeping view.
Today there were no tourists. Torri saw only a single car parked there. It was sleek and silver and very modern-looking. If she hadn’t known it was actually Vic’s ship, she would have thought it was some kind of European luxury sports sedan or something.
“I’ll park right beside my ship,” Vic told her as they pulled into the Lookout. “And open the doors remotely for you. Get in as quickly and quietly as you can.”
“But what if they shoot at you?” Torri’s stomach was in knots and the monotonous wail of the police sirens was getting louder and louder as the police car pulled in behind them.
“Don’t worry—the outer hull of my ship is extremely tough,” Vic told her. “It will protect you from any projectile weapons.”
“I’m talking about you though!” Torri protested. “What if they shoot at you?”
“I’ll do my best not to get hit,” Vic said simply. He turned off the truck. “Now go—slip out while I try to distract the authorities.”
As he spoke, his body began to change rapidly. After just a few seconds, it wasn’t Vic but Mike O’Toole sitting in the driver’s seat of the truck.
Torri supposed it was the disguise that made the most sense. O’Toole was—or had been—the rightful owner of the truck, after all. But seeing the dead orderly who had tormented her at St. Elizabeth’s appear right beside her, still gave her the cold shivers.
“Okay, everybody stay in the car and keep your hands where I can see them,” someone shouted. It was a single policeman and though he didn’t have his gun drawn, his hand was on the weapon, ready to pull it out at any minute.
Torri froze for a moment. Every instinct said she ought to do what the policeman said and obey authority. But then she thought about what would happen if she was caught. Not only would the Earth be overrun in a matter of days, she would also, most probably, be shipped back to St. Elizabeth’s.
No—I’m never going back there! she thought fiercely. It gave her the strength to open her door and slip quietly to the ground. Gripping her duffle bag fiercely in one arm, she slipped over to the silver spaceship car beside her.
The policeman was rounding the driver’s side of the truck now but he still heard the truck’s passenger side door open.
“I said stay where you are!” he shouted menacingly.
“It’s okay, officer—my girlfriend just really has to go, you know?” Vic as O’Toole said easily.
It was eerie how well he duplicated the orderly’s voice and speech patterns, Torri thought and then she looked more closely to the sleek metal car, searching for the door handle.
There was none that she could find and she was starting to panic when she put her hand flat on the door and it slid to one side smoothly, revealing a high-tech interior like nothing she had ever seen before. If she’d had any doubts left that Vic was telling her the truth about having a spaceship, one look inside this “car” put them to rest.
It looks like the cockpit of a plane—only more complicated, Torri thought, eyeing all the weird-looking instruments. She was careful not to touch anything as she slid into the luxurious seat which was much too large for her and felt like it was covered in some kind of ultra-soft suede.
“Hey, get back here!” the cop shouted at her but the ship’s door was already closing smoothly and silently behind her.
“Now, don’t get all excited, officer,” she heard Vic say genially. Looking through the smoked glass window of the sleek alien vehicle she saw that he had both his hands up in a “don’t shoot” gesture. “I think she just went to get some kind of personal items if you know what I mean,” he added and winked meaningfully.
The officer apparently decided to concentrate on Vic and leave Torri alone for the moment.
“Are you Michael O’Toole?” he demanded.
“That’s what it says on my license—wanna see it?” Vic asked amiably.
“Yes, I do. License and registration right now and no funny business,” the officer snapped. He was a big guy—though not as big as Vic in his true form, Torri saw. And he still hadn’t taken his hand off the butt of his gun.
Vic hunted around and managed to produce the truck’s registration, but of course he didn’t have O’Toole’s driver’s license.
“Well, shit,” he said, sounding genuinely disgusted with himself when he failed to produce it. “Must’ve left my wallet in my other pants. I’m sorry, officer.”
“You will be sorry,” the officer growled, glaring at him.
“Can I ask why you stopped me?” Vic asked, still apparently trying to look harmless.
“There was a murder and an abduction at St. Elizabeth’s Mental Hospital last night,” the officer snarled, frowning at him. “Know anything about that?”
“Afraid not.” Vic shrugged. “I mean, I work there, but I left in the middle of my shift last night to come visit my grandma. She has a cabin not far from here—she was real sick and needed me.”
From the confines of the sleek silver ship, Torri could see the angry bafflement on the cop’s face. It was clear he wasn’t sure if he ought to believe anything Vic was saying or not. On one hand, the person he was speaking to looked like the murder victim, but on the other hand, he had been seen leaving by Gus, the security guard last night. The only way any of this was possible was if O’Toole had an identical twin, which she was pretty sure he didn’t. She didn’t blame the officer for being confused—she just hoped he wouldn’t start shooting.
“Get out of the truck right now and keep your hands where I can see them,” he said to Vic.
Vic opened the driver’s door of the truck and stepped down with his hands in the air.
“Now what?” he asked innocently.
“Now you’re coming with me. And so is your lady friend—whoever she is,” the officer snapped. “Turn around slowly and put your hands behind your back.”
Vic started to turn, then whipped back around. In a motion so fast it was almost a blur, he grabbed something from the officer. Torri saw it glint silver in his hand—the gun!—and then Vic threw it over the side of the mountain. It went sailing into the blue as though he had pitched a fast-ball, winking in the sunlight, and fell much further than anyone human could have thrown it.
“I’m sorry, officer, but I’m in a hurry and I can’t let you stop me.”
As he spoke, Vic turned back into himself again. The instant transformation made the officer stop and stare at him, his eyes wide with shock.
“Hey—” he started.
But Vic had already walked around the truck and was climbing into the sleek silver ship beside Torri.