Nightrise

the flashlight on himself.
    "Don't be scared," he said. "I'm a friend."
    "Scott?" The boy on the bunk thought he'd recognized him, and for a moment Jamie was thrown. But, of course, he wasn't wearing the glasses. And in the half-light it would have been easy to mistake him for his brother, even with his short hair.

    "I'm not Scott. I'm his brother…"
    "Jamie!"
    ''Yes." Jamie felt a whirl of emotions. Scott had been here. This boy had met him. Perhaps he might know where he had gone. 'You're Daniel…is that right?" he asked.
    "I'm Danny."
    "I met your mother. She's been looking for you. She sent me to find you."
    ''You saw my mom?"
    The lights came back on. Danny gasped, seeing the red stains all over Jamie's face. 'You're hurt!" he said.
    "No. Don't worry. It's fake…"
    Jamie wasn't sure what was meant to happen next. He was inside the cell with Daniel McGuire, inside the Block. The other prisoners were still hammering at their doors, shouting for attention. The lights were back on. The television cameras were in operation. The entire prison was in a state of maximum alert. What exactly had they achieved?

    ***
    Colton Banes had seen the lights come on too.
    He was in a jeep, being driven from the airstrip where he had landed in the four-seater Cessna that had carried him from Los Angeles. Max Koring was behind the wheel. He had known at once that something was wrong. Silent Creek could be seen for miles around, and darkness in this part of the desert was simply impossible —it was like some sort of enormous magic trick. As the two of them drove along the track, the lights flickered on and the prison reappeared.
    Koring turned to him. "A power failure," he muttered. "It happens. Sometimes the generator cuts out."
    "An accident?" Banes shook his head slowly. "Not tonight, I don't think…" He reached under his jacket and took out a gun. "Put your foot down," he snapped. "We need to raise the alarm."
    But he was too late. The jeep was still a hundred yards from the main gates when the first shots were fired.

    THIRTEEN
    Eagle Cry
    They had come from nowhere, riding out of the desert in dusty pickup trucks, open-top cars, and jeeps.
    If this had been an old Western, Silent Creek would have been a fort and they would have been wearing war paint and feathers — for they were all Native Americans…at least thirty of them, from different tribes, firing guns and rifles as they approached the perimeter fence.
    They were aiming at the arc lamps. One after another, the lamps shattered and darkness took hold once again. But more lights had come on inside the buildings. The supervisors knew they were under attack and they had weapons too. At the same time, the alarm had been raised in the outlying houses and more guards were pouring out, some of them half dressed, roused from their sleep.
    One of the jeeps hurtled toward the fence, then swerved away at the last minute. There was a man standing in the back, clinging on to the side bars, and as he drew near, he threw something, a homemade grenade. It landed on the sand, bounced, then exploded — a ball of flame that tore a gaping hole in the perimeter fence. At once, a siren went off, howling uselessly into the darkness. On the other side of the prison, there was a. second explosion as another part of the fence was ripped open. Now one of the cars roared into the inner compound, the last strands of razor wire ripping apart as it burst through. Four men, almost invisible in the shadows, tumbled out and took up positions around the football field. Another explosion. This time it was one of the satellite dishes behind the teaching wing. The attackers had made sure there would be no more communications tonight.
    Not that they needed to have bothered. Colton Banes was watching the attack with amazement, and already he had seen something that the attackers must have known from the start. Silent Creek was a maximum security youth correctional center. It had been built to remove the slightest chance of anyone breaking out. But nobody had considered the possibility of a well-armed force trying to break in. Worse than that, its position, in the middle of the Mojave Desert, had become its Achilles' heel. There was nobody for miles around. By the time anyone arrived to help, it would be far too late.
    Their jeep drew level with one of the trucks and for a moment he had one of the attackers in his sights…
    another man with black hair and eyes that were alight with excitement. The man