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hand, advertising the games inside. The Eldorado was farther down the street on a corner, its entrance illuminated by a never-ending firework display of multicolored lights. Jamie couldn't see anyone on the sidewalk, but there were a few cars, their headlights pushing back what little night remained. Which way? Jamie looked around desperately. He had no idea. He didn't know how many people were chasing him and there was nowhere to hide.
    Scott cried out. The front doors of the theatre had burst open and the two men who had started it all had emerged into the street. Jamie was prepared to run but then he saw that his brother was standing quite still, one hand against his chin as if he had a bad toothache. His face was completely white. Slowly, the hand fell and Jamie saw the black tufts of a dart sticking out of his cheek.
    "Oh no…" Jamie whispered.
    "Run, Jamie," Scott said.
    "No. I'm not leaving you."
    'Just do it! You can't help me if they get you…"
    Of course it was true. There was nothing else he could do. If he stood there, they would simply grab both of them. Jamie hesitated just one second more, then turned and was about to run when he felt something like a wasp sting, high up on his right shoulder. Instantly, he knew that he too had been hit. The two men were twenty yards away. It was the bald one who had fired the shot. Jamie saw him lower the gun. He had stopped moving, knowing the chase was over. Jamie heard another man shouting something in the parking lot. The motel alarm was still screaming. There was the thud of rubber shoes against concrete.
    Scott fell to his knees. Dully, Jamie looked at him, knowing he would be next. In a way he was glad.
    Whatever was going to happen, he'd stay with his brother after all.
    And then there was the screech of tires and a second car came out of nowhere, veering across the path of the oncoming traffic. Jamie heard a blast of horns. The neon lights were blurring and the whole night seemed to be folding in on itself. He thought the car was going to run him over and he wondered what would be the point of that. Drug him and then kill him? It didn't make any sense.
    The car shuddered to a halt. One of its tires had mounted the sidewalk. The car was between him and the two men —just as the German shepherd had been earlier. A door swung open and a voice called out to him.
    "Get in!"
    The dark-haired man had produced a second gun. But this one didn't fire darts. There was a sharp crack and one of the car windows shattered, the glass frosting collapsing out of the frame. A second shot and the mirror disintegrated.

    "Get in!" the voice urged again.
    Jamie took one last look at his brother. Scott was lying facedown on the pavement, one hand outstretched, the other folded beneath him. The dart was still hanging out of his cheek. His eyes were closed. There was nothing Jamie could do for him. He fell forward into the car.
    He wanted to know who was driving but he didn't have the strength to look up. He was half in the car, half out, but already they were moving. He felt his feet being dragged along the road and reached out with one hand, searching for something to hold on to, something to help pull him in.
    A hand reached down and grabbed his arm.
    "Hold on!" the voice commanded.
    They were reversing. Jamie heard a third shot, then a howl of an engine and more blaring horns as other cars swerved all around them. But the traffic had lost its shape. To Jamie the other cars were just blurs of color, ricocheting off each other, firing off in every direction. The neon lights spun round and round. He thought he saw four huge playing cards — the ace of hearts, clubs, spades, and diamonds — light up, one after the other. The giant lollipop turned in the hand of the clown. A bright red shop sign flashed on and off: ez cash super pawn.
    Somehow he was in the car. He could feel soft leather pressing against his face but his feet seemed to be clear of the road.
    After that, he remembered