17
I phase in, and the noise of the busy street stops. I pull Eugene in with me. As we exit the car, we start looking around.
“Darren, look at this,” Eugene says. He sounds more scared than I’ve heard him since we started this whole mess.
He stands a few feet to the right of the car and points at something in the air. When I take a closer look, my heartbeat spikes. It’s a bullet. A bullet frozen in its path. A bullet that just missed the car. The sibling of the one that must have shattered that mirror.
“Someone’s shooting at us,” I say stupidly.
Eugene mumbles something incomprehensible in response.
Coming out of our shock, we frantically search the cars behind us. It doesn’t take long to find the source of the bullets. Not surprisingly, it’s our new friends.
How did they manage to
