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to the UFO convention had given him more than a few ideas. “You know, an alien. Little green men. Antennae. Laser guns. ‘Take me to your leader, Earthlings’ mumbo jumbo.”
    â€œMumbo jumbo?” Seth asked, more confused than before.
    Sara seemed to understand better. “He requires some proof,” she said.“He thinks we are insulting his intelligence.”
    â€œWell, yeah,” Jack said. “I mean, you don’t just drop the ‘alien’ bomb. I have seen some weird things today, but you can’t expect me to believe . . .”
    Before he could continue, loose items from throughout the cab started to lift into the air. Coins, old parking tickets, and an empty coffee cup were all floating around as if they were in outer space. Jack’s mouth dropped open.
    â€œThere are things floating around me, right?” he asked, worried that he was losing his mind.
    Sara nodded. “I’m telekinetic,” she explained. “I have the ability to move items with my mind.”
    â€œThat’s impossible,” Jack said, disbelieving.
    â€œIt is quite possible,” Sara answered. “On our planet as well as yours. You don’t do it because you haven’t learned to use your full brain capacity.”
    â€œMaybe I don’t do it,” Jack retorted,“because it’s just creepy! Could you stop that?”
    In an instant, everything dropped simultaneously.
    Sighing, Jack turned back around. He tried the ignition and after a few coughs, the cab started. Slowly, the taxi started to rattle down the road, it— and Jack—barely keeping it together.

    B ack at the crash site, flames flickered in the trees alongside the train tracks. A shadowy figure arose from the wreckage of the collision. It was the Siphon. His body was charred, but somehow he had managed to survive. His leg was severely damaged and bent in an unnatural direction. He straightened it, apparently unbothered by any pain. Then a laser emerged from among the weapons on his arm. He used the laser to burn the armor and flesh around his wound and melt it all back together.
    Suddenly a noise from above caught his attention. It was the sound of a helicopter’s rotors. The Siphon slinked back into the shadows to keep from being spotted.
    A searchlight from the helicopter moved across the scene of the collision, as Burke and his team surveyed the wreckage.
    â€œTrain engineer is banged up but alive,” Carson told the rest of the team. “Last thing he saw in the tunnel was our taxi and a set of flying lights. He figured it was a small plane.”
    â€œSmall plane?” Pope asked, his curiosity piqued. “You think there’s a chance they have a second spacecraft?”
    Matheson shook his head. “You have the ability to fly at the speed of light, yet you use a beat-up cab?”
    Burke had seen enough.“Secure the site. Catalog every piece of debris. I want to know what’s train, what’s cab, and . . . what’s left.”
    â€œRoger that,” Carson replied. “We’ve set up a trace on Bruno’s cell phone. He uses it, we’ll be there before he can hang up.”
    Burke nodded, confident that the chase was nearing its end.

CHAPTER 10
    J ack’s taxi was running, but just barely. It sputtered down the road and past a sign reading, ENTERING STONY CREEK—EST . 1846. Once a silver-mining camp, Stony Creek looked like the kind of small town where everybody knew everybody else. Jack also hoped it was the kind of town where you could find a great mechanic at any hour of the night.
    Jack managed to nurse his cab all the way to Eddie’s Service Station. As they got out of the cab, he turned to the kids. “Don’t say anything. Don’t touch anything. And don’t do anything . . . freaky,” he instructed them. Then he turned and called out to see if anyone was there.
    A man who looked to be in his fifties walked