Out of the hills roared the motorcycles. In a fast zooming roar. down the roadway, straight as a die. Johnny's mouth hung open as he watched them go. What was with those guys? They were traveling like something was after them. Then he whirled and looked up the hillside. He sniffed and stared into the sun. A thread of smoke curled and twisted, traveling with the wind. The first wisp spread as he watched. "Fire!" he breathed. "No wonder they got out." He knew they would not be back. He raced for the phone. Dead. They had cut the line. Flames leaped closer and closer...