Criminal Destiny Read Online Free Page B

what?” Malik returns. “Jog down the center line of the highway?”
    â€œWe could make a break for the woods,” I suggest. “A chopper can’t land there.”
    Eli nixes that idea. “Then we’d be stranding ourselves. They could take their time, and come and get us at their leisure.”
    â€œHave you guys been seeing these signs along the highway?” Tori puts in. “‘Beat the Traffic—Ditch Your Car’?”
    Malik is too keyed up to be patient. “If it doesn’t get that helicopter off our necks, why do I care about this?”
    â€œBecause we’re looking for a place to ditch our car, dummy,” I explain.
    â€œNo, we aren’t,” he reasons. “There are Purples up there! The minute we’re on foot, they’ll land the chopper and grab us.”
    â€œNot if we’re somewhere so big and crowded that they can’t find us,” Tori reasons.
    I haven’t noticed any of the signs before, but now that I’m looking, they’re every couple of miles. Denver South Park-n-Ride . I don’t know what it is, but it sounds big.
    We notice the parking lot first—acres upon acres of vehicles, far more than we’ve ever seen in our lives. Unless the Purple People Eaters are ready to bring their helicopter on top of somebody’s station wagon or SUV, they won’t be able to get within half a mile of us.
    â€œGo!” Tori urges.
    Eli’s already veering onto the exit ramp, two packed lanes that veer off and cloverleaf over the highway. At the center of the sea of cars is a sprawling terminal building. Dozens of buses stand along it, loading up. The instant a full one drives off, another arrives to take its place. The stream of passengers never slows.
    â€œWhoa!” I breathe. “I didn’t think there were this many people in the world!”
    â€œLeave the car over there,” Tori instructs Eli. “We’ve got a bus to catch.”
    â€œA bus to where?” Malik asks.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter so long as the Purples don’t see which one it is.”
    Eli does a terrible job parking the SUV, leaving it at an angle, taking up two spaces. We barely notice. We jump out and run for the buses, keeping our heads low, trying to blend in with the crowd. It’s more city noise than I ever experienced in my life—the whiz of cars passing on the highway, the strain of large bus engines, the chatter of so many conversations blending into a background roar. And, yes, the rotor of the chopper still hovering overhead.
    â€œFollow me,” Tori hisses.
    Staying close, but not together, we push our way into a line, drawing annoyed stares from the other passengers. We wait until we’re almost at the entrance before she leads us into another line, and then a third, this one partially obscured by a shelter.
    Soon the chopper overhead is going back and forth across the Park-n-Ride, which is how we know they’ve lost us. It’s much easier to keep track of a big black SUV than four tiny heads, bobbing amid thousands of others. That’s our cue to board the nearest bus.
    The driver is collecting tickets, but a few people pay with cash. A small sign says the fare is four dollars. It’s a bargain, I decide. To get away from those Purple People Eaters, we’d gladly hand over every cent we have.
    We find seats wherever we can, hunker down, and wait for departure.
    Several minutes later, when the bus pulls out and merges onto the highway, the chopper is still searching for us over the parking lot.
    My eyes meet Tori’s, and I offer an approving nod. If we’ve truly gotten away, it’s thanks to her.
    For the first time, I notice the video display behind the driver. It announces our destination: Denver: Downtown Terminal .
    â€œDenver,” I say aloud, as if getting used to the idea. “I’m going to Denver.”
    My seatmate, an older lady, gives me an odd