Tremor by Patrick Carman Page B

interior of the prison.
    â€œThere’s only one person that can be,” Wade said, feeling the adrenaline rush of a serious fight about to happen.
    Andre was at the east turret, binoculars in hand, staring Dylan down.
    â€œHit him with a few rockets,” Andre said. “Let’s slow him down.”
    Andre had heard about Dylan Gilmore, but the intel he could gather was sketchy at best. The extent of his knowledge was limited to four items:
    Dylan was a second pulse possibly aligned with Meredith, possibly not. There was no way of knowing for sure, because Meredith hadn’t been seen by anyone in years. He knew she was out there, that she had her own collection of single pulses aligned against him, but that was all.
    Outside of Gretchen and the twins, Dylan was the only other known second pulse in the world.
    They had determined, in a previous encounter, that Dylan Gilmore’s weakness was stone, concrete in particular. (Andre was comforted by the fact that the prison was made of a substance that could prove useful as a weapon, should things get out of hand.)
    Dylan had saved a single pulse named Faith Daniels because, presumably, he was in love with her. This was a touchy situation with Andre’s daughter, Clara, who had killed Faith’s best friend out of spite, because Clara was in love with Dylan, too.
    â€œGretchen?” Andre said into a secure line.
    â€œWe’re on our way; what’s going on?”
    â€œIt’s Dylan out here. Clara’s going to be upset.”
    Gretchen couldn’t believe her ears. Dylan Gilmore? What was he doing attacking their camp?
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Wade asked. They were running up a switchback set of stairs, heading for a door that would release them into a long hallway.
    â€œNothing your father can’t handle,” Gretchen said, though she and Wade both knew that wasn’t true. He was a single pulse. He could easily be killed if things went off the rails in the prison yard.
    Outside, three rockets were fired in quick succession, exploding within feet of Dylan. When the dust cleared, Dylan was still walking. He was twenty yards from the wall when he uprooted a telephone pole from which the wires had been cut, turned it sideways, and sent it flying through the air like an arrow shot from a bow. It hit the main doors of the prison, rocking the turret overhead.
    â€œTake it easy, Dylan,” Hawk said into his sound ring. Clooger and Faith were next to him, monitoring everything from a secure location on one of the hills outside the prison. “No need to get them too riled up.”
    â€œWe’re taking fire,” Clara said, smiling as she felt the walls in the hallway tremble. “Finally, some action.”
    When Dylan was close enough to see Andre in the east gun turret, he smiled cunningly. Andre was staring at Dylan through binoculars, so he saw the look, which was the last glimpse of Dylan he had before watching him vanish. Dylan had gotten much better at launching into the sky, and before Andre knew what had happened, there was no sign of Dylan at all.
    â€œFind him!” Andre shouted as Clara, Wade, and Gretchen emerged into the sunlight. The moment they were through the double doors, all three were flying, circling the compound as they scanned the sky for Dylan.
    But they were looking in the wrong place, because the approaching enemy had already landed.
    Andre felt Dylan’s presence behind him and wondered how on earth this kid had moved from where he’d been to where he was with such speed and stealth. Dylan slammed the gunner’s head into the wall and watched him slide down into an unconscious position.
    â€œThat’s going to be quite a headache in the morning,” Andre said.
    â€œBetter than being dead.”
    â€œFair enough,” Andre said. “Are you going to kill me, too? Because if you are, I’d rather like to fall to my death. It’s just a thing I have