Touched by an Alien

answered. “He ran away when she charged him.”
    “He’s a superbeing, but he’s not stupid.” Martini sounded as though he was going to pass out.
    “What’s wrong with Jeff?” I tried to keep my voice calm, but I couldn’t.
    “He’ll be fine,” Christopher said only somewhat reassuringly. “He gets like this if he’s gone too long without regeneration.”
    “How often does that happen?”
    “Oh, once a month, month and a half,” Martini said. “Old hat.” I didn’t believe him, mostly because Christopher’s eyes were saying that they were both lying. I tried not to think about what Reader had told me in the limo, but it was hard not to—Martini was burned out, and that meant his condition was going to deteriorate fast.
    We reached the gate, or at least where I thought the gate was. I couldn’t see anything that looked like a doorway, but there was a shimmering in front of us, and it looked doorlike.
    Tim stopped the car, hit the intercom and spoke. “You ready for us?”
    “Need a couple more minutes; you’ve got something funny on the car.” Gower sounded confused. Tim put the car into park.
    I’d grown up hearing about guerilla fighting. I hadn’t realized my parents had been speaking from experience, but they’d sure trained me for what to look for. “Everybody out of the car, now !” I shoved past Reader, opened his door and pushed him out. He’d been on the passenger side, and I scrambled after him. The other three were staring at me. I reached in, grabbed Christopher, and pulled with all my might. He flew out. Reader was pulling Martini out. “Tim, move your ass!”
    “Christopher, help me, now !” Reader had one of Martini’s arms over his shoulders, but he couldn’t move. Christopher stopped arguing and grabbed Martini’s other arm. They ran for the gate.
    Tim was getting out but too slowly. I ran around and grabbed him, dragging him toward the gate. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, sounding a lot like Christopher.
    “Yates is a terrorist, you moron!” Tim blanched, grabbed my hand, and we started to run as fast as we could. The others were in front of us, but too far from the gate. “We hit them and use the momentum.”
    “You got it, boss.” Tim let go of my hand, and we barreled toward the others. We hit at the same time, and the three of them went flying through the gate. I broke the cardinal rule and looked behind me. The car exploded, and parts were flying straight toward me. Just before a section of the engine hit my face, someone grabbed my purse and pulled.

CHAPTER 47
    I TUMBLED ONTO THE FLOOR , onto a heap of men. Tim’s hand was connected to my purse, but I disentangled it. Under most circumstances, I wouldn’t have minded being on top of the hunky mountain in the least. But I could tell Martini was on the bottom of the dog pile.
    I scrambled to my feet, relieved I still had feet, let alone the rest of me. There were people all around us, most of them helping the menfolk up. There was a gurney, and Martini was loaded onto it. I got shoved away from him by a press of official-looking people I’d never laid eyes on before. Some were in suits, but not Armani suits, some were in uniform, and all of them looked deadly serious.
    Reader was flung onto a gurney as well, despite his protests. I saw more gurneys coming and decided escape was the better part of valor. I wanted to be with Martini, but not if that meant being hooked up to an IV or sitting in some medical tube having brain X-rays taken.
    I backed away right into two sets of ham-hands. “This one, too?” some man I’d never heard before asked.
    “Let me go!” I started to kick. Which got me picked up by the waist. Martini did this a lot better.
    “We need a sedative over here!” my other captor barked.
    From my vantage point I saw Tim and Christopher both get the gurney treatment. Christopher in particular was arguing with this, but he was outnumbered. I couldn’t believe this was normal.
    “What in the Sam Hill is going on here?” The voice was loud, furious, and filled with authority. It was also a voice I’d heard all my life.
    My mother strode into the room, flanked by White and Gower. “I asked a question, and I expect an answer.” She was practically snarling, and she looked as though she was ready to take out every person within range—and she looked as though she could do it. She was wearing black pants, a shirt, and a shoulder holster, complete with gun. She