Sullivan Saga 3: Sullivan's Watch by Michael K. Rose

autopilot. They returned to New York in silence, each man deep in thought.
    When they landed, Ives stood. “Hey… if you come out of this, you know where to find me.”
    Sullivan smiled and shook the agent’s hand. “Of course. Even if this works, there will still be a lot of work to do to rid the planet of the aliens. We’ll go hunting together. Good luck.”
    “You, too.” Ives smiled and stepped toward the rear of the freighter. Sullivan heard the hatch open then close, and after making sure Ives was clear, he lifted off and set a course to take him into orbit. He wished he could do more, but Frank Allen was counting on him to be in position when the next alien ship arrived. All he could do now was wait.

III: CONSEQUENCES

17
     
    BROTHER PETER LAY on the couch listening to the old-fashioned analog clock ticking on the mantle above the fireplace. Marco’s mother had been polite but distant to him. She’d been overjoyed to see Marco and hadn’t seemed too upset that he’d escaped from prison, so her animosity lay elsewhere. She hadn’t said so, but Peter knew it was because of who he was, because of what he’d done.
    A noise reached his ears from the hallway, and Peter lifted his head off the pillow and peered into the darkness. Marco’s mother walked by without looking at him and into the kitchen. He heard the door leading out onto the patio open and close, and a moment later she walked back across the living room and back to her bedroom.
    Peter looked up toward the kitchen door. A man was standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the moonlight coming through the window behind him.
    Peter rose into a sitting position. “Marco?”
    The man lunged forward and knocked Peter back down onto the couch. Peter struggled and was able to wriggle out from under him. He bolted for the front door, unlocked it and threw it open. Three more men stood outside, armed with knives.
    Peter slammed the door as they rushed forward. He put his shoulder down and charged the man already inside. The man went down, and Peter ran into the kitchen and to the patio door. It was still open, and he bolted through it without looking back.
    A low hedge separated each yard, and Peter made good progress, as he was able to leap over them without too much difficulty. Three yards over, he noticed a waist-high gate separating the yard from the street out front.
    He jumped the gate and stood panting as he looked both ways down the street. The men in front of Marco’s house spotted him and gave chase.
    Peter ran blindly through the streets, hoping he wouldn’t find himself so desperately lost that escape would be impossible. He tried to keep one eye on the clock tower in the center of town. He’d draw closer to it only to be led away again as the street turned.
    The footsteps behind him eventually grew distant. Peter knew he was in better than average shape, and thanked God he’d decided to keep up his exercises while in prison.
    He slowed to a brisk walk and glanced behind him. His pursuers were nowhere in sight, but given the labyrinthine nature of the streets, they could have easily taken a shortcut in the hopes of getting in front of him.
    Peter looked back in the direction he’d been going. He saw a street branching off to the left which looked like it was aimed directly at the bell tower. He reached it and was relieved to see a straight, clear path to the center of town.
    Staying in the shadows as well as he could, Peter skulked to the town center. He found the road leading back to the highway and took to it. He was soon walking alongside the forest next to the town. Marco had mentioned a tree house. It wouldn’t be much, but it would be better than being on the ground during the night, with men who wanted him dead and those alien creatures possibly lurking about.
    Peter kept his eyes on the woods as he continued down the road. If he didn’t see the tree house from there, he’d move into the woods a bit and have a closer look.
    In the