Basilisk by Rob Thurman Page B

hiking trail than a road, we were bouncing roughly up and down. Stefan was a great shot, but under these conditions, it would be hard to make a shot that would count. Luckily, I had something that took less accuracy than a bullet. “Wait,” I said as I unzipped the bag and pulled out two gray cylinders. “I have something better.” I dropped one into my lap, rolled down the window, leaned out, set the detonator, and tossed the first one. It blew up one of the back tires of the SUV. The second one took out a front one. First, the vehicle spun, sending clouds of dirt and clumps of grass into the air, before tipping over on to one side. No one got out as long as we were in sight, but the shadowy figure inside was moving. If he was Hugo Raynor, with his impressive resume, I assumed he’d have more guns and be better with them than the sandwich guy who obviously had worked for him. Without a better view of what Raynor was doing and how he was armed, we were best to leave it and be happy with one SUV dead in the water.
    I smiled in satisfaction. “Guns are for boys. High explosives are for men.”
    Stefan didn’t seem as satisfied.
    â€œBombs? You were making pipe bombs ?” he demanded incredulously as he drove on.
    â€œGarages don’t blow themselves up,” I pointed out with some exasperation at his lack of gratitude. “And they’re not pipe bombs so much as proactive explosive measures. Little pipe bombs,” I emphasized. “You know . . . just in case.” With electrical detonation devices—very simple. Military detonation cord wasn’t as quick as I might need it to be. “They’re really quite easy to make. Too easy. They should be more responsible with the information on the Internet. . . .”
    â€œYou told me that equipment was for your genetic research”—I think he hit a rock on purpose as my head smacked the inside roof of the car—“to find a cure for the rest of the kids. You lied to me, Michael Lukas Korsak.”
    â€œI didn’t lie,” I shot back. “I said that the equipment was to help me find a cure. I didn’t say all the equipment was to help me find a cure. Some of it could be used to save our lives too.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t think that was worth mentioning? You running an armory behind our house?” Stefan gritted his teeth. “I swear, when we switch cars, I’m going to take a minute to beat you like a redheaded stepchild.”
    â€œI didn’t not mention it. It didn’t come up, that’s all.” Yes, a fine line, but it was my line and I was stubbornly walking it. “And why do people have a dislike for people with red hair? I’ve heard that saying once or twice since moving here. Why would their hair color make them the targets of violence?”
    â€œNot the time, and you know it’s just some old saying. Don’t think I don’t recognize your version of smart-ass, Michael.”
    â€œMisha,” I insisted again.
    â€œAnd what’s with that? We’re running from who the hell knows and you’re worried about your nickname?”
    â€œMichael is the Institute. Misha is free. I’m free and I’m staying that way. I’m a man now, a new person, and Misha will remind me of that. I don’t want their name anymore.” But I couldn’t go back to Lukas. That would be as wrong. I wasn’t ever going to get my memories of Lukas’s first seven years back, not to mention what I’d discovered in my research. I couldn’t be that person. I couldn’t be Lukas. I was Misha and only Misha now, for good. I was me, finally finished, finally recovered from the Institute, finally real. They weren’t getting me back and they could keep their damn Peter Pan name.
    â€œFine. Misha the Mighty.” The car bounced again and I heard the muffler hit one rock too many and it was gone behind us. “You got