Nightrise

trash cans. It was full and must have weighed a ton, but maybe desperation had given him extra strength. As the car sped toward them, he threw it. The trash can didn't travel far — but the speeding car did their work for them. The can smashed into the windshield. Glass shattered. Scott and Jamie threw themselves aside as the car rocketed toward them.
    Rotten vegetables and leftovers showered down as the trash can rolled across the hood. They heard the metal door panels crumpling as the car slammed into the side of the theatre. Then it swerved away and smashed into the motel office on the other side. An alarm went off. The car came to a hissing, shuddering halt.
    The two boys had hit the ground and rolled out of harm's way. Jamie was the first to his feet. He reached out for Scott and helped him up. For a brief moment, he wondered if the driver of the car and his passenger had been knocked out or even killed. But his hopes were dashed when the car doors opened and two men staggered out, one of them with blood oozing from a cut in his head, but both otherwise unhurt.
    "Move!" Scott commanded, and Jamie and he set off, making for Virginia Street. They had to get out into the open where there would be other people, witnesses. But as they went, Jamie felt something streak past his ear and realized that one of the men had fired another dart. At least it wasn't a bullet. The plan was to take the two boys alive. But what then? What had brought these people to the theatre in Reno? For years, nobody had cared about him and Scott. Why was all this happening now?
    The boys reached the main street and suddenly the darkness of the parking lot gave way to the brilliance of the Reno night. The casinos were illuminated by a thousand lights: flashing, spinning, rotating, cascading, doing anything they could to draw people in. There was the casino called Circus Circus with its huge clown, pink and blue plastic, over thirty feet high. It was holding a lollipop that rotated in its 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