I Am Number Four: The Lost Files 2 by Pittacus Lore

Author:Pittacus Lore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins US

Chapter Sixteen

I don’t need the incessant vibrating from my pocket to tell me that the three men standing in front of my car are Mogs. I know my enemy.

“They probably want your insurance info,” says Maddy as she begins rifling through the glove box.

For a second I try to convince myself that this could just be a coincidence, that they don’t know exactly who—or what—I am. But they’re not looking at the damage to their van. I’ve crumpled their back bumper pretty good and shattered one of their taillights, but they don’t seem to care.

All three of them stare at me. Slowly, one of them begins to reach under his coat.

There’s no way this is random. Wishful thinking. My date is ruined before it’s even started.

“Hell with it,” I growl, and throw the car into reverse.

The Mogs immediately fan out, trying to cut off my escape. As if I won’t run them over. I rev the engine and peel out, forcing one of the Mogs to dive out of the way. As I shoot by, I see the others already scrambling into the van.

“What are you doing?!” screams Maddy.

“I think one of them had a gun,” I shout back, weaving around a slow-moving sedan.

“Are you nuts? Stanley, slow down!”

I do the opposite. Flooring it, I blow through a red light. The convertible’s tires screech as I jerk the wheel hard left, nearly fishtailing us through a turn. Maddy is thrown against her seat belt and I wince as she cries out in pain.

In the rearview, I see the Mog van cut off by traffic. I realize that I’ve been holding my breath and let an exhale hiss through my teeth.

“Let me out,” says Maddy. “Let me out of this car right now.”

I start to slow down, trying to blend into the rest of the traffic. That’s not going to be easy considering my flashy car. I hope Sandor’s out there somewhere watching this all go down on his network of hacked cameras, that he’s sending a drone to bail me out as we speak.

The iMog in my pocket vibrates with renewed vigor.

“Hold on,” I say, punching the gas just as the Mog’s van comes barreling out of a side street, nearly clipping the convertible’s bumper.

The van is riding hard on our tail, trying to grind us off the road. Other cars let loose whining honks as we speed down the middle of the road. Maddy looks over her shoulder, staring in horror at the van bearing down on us and its stone-faced driver.

“They’re right behind us.” Her voice is almost a whisper. Her hand is clutching my arm, nails digging right through my shirt. “Why is this happening?”

I don’t respond; there’s no lie I can think of that could possibly explain it.

With sweaty fingers, I flick open a hidden panel on the steering wheel. Sandor planned for this sort of thing.

“Sit back,” I warn. Maddy looks at me, her frightened expression apparently not reserved just for the Mogs.

I hit the button for nitrous oxide.

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