Gingerly, he tried to take a step forward.

He couldn't walk.

"He'd better be up here," Frank Kramer groused fifteen minutes later. They had come out into a clearing on a bluff above town, and Mitzi was sniffing eagerly at the base of a large boulder. Kramer wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow and tried to catch his breath, silently promising himself that after tonight he'd get serious about the diet and exercise he'd been putting off for longer than he cared to admit.

The other three men, he noticed, didn't even seem to be breathing heavily.

"He's up here,"Kennally replied, maliciously shining the light on Kramer's face. "Look how Mitzi's acting. Wouldn't surprise me if Jeff sat here for a while, watching us hunt for him."

"How can I look with that damned light in my eyes?" Kramer muttered. Then: "How long do we keep looking? He could be anywhere up here."

Kennallytilted his head in a gesture of indifference. "Anywhere he could be, Mitzi can find him."

The dog had abandoned the boulder now and was once again pulling at the lead as she tried to scramble up the steep trail. The four men followed her for another ten minutes, until she stopped abruptly, her whole body rigid as she stared into the darkness ahead.

Kennallyplayed his light over the trail, and then all four men saw what they were looking for.

He was crouched down by another large boulder, and in the glare of the flashlight his eyes seemed to glint unnaturally. As he gazed silently at the boy, a strange thought flitted into DickKennally's mind.

A cornered animal. He looks just like a cornered animal.

"It's okay, Jeff," he said out loud. "We're not going to hurt you. We're just going to take you back to town."

JeffLaConner said nothing, but in the glow of the flashlight, they could see him press closer to the shelter of the boulder.

Kennallyhesitated a moment, then spoke again, his voice low. "Okay, you guys. Let's spread out and move in slowly. I don't want anyone getting hurt."

Joe Rankin glanced at him curiously. "Hurt? Christ, Dick, he's not Charlie Manson. He's just a kid."

ButKennally shook his head, Martin Ames's words fresh in his mind. "Just do what I tell you, all right?"

Kramer and Rankin moved off to the left and Wes Jenkins slipped into the woods to the right asKennally moved slowly up the trail, keeping his flashlight trained on JeffLaConner. The boy's eyes never blinked, but his head began to move in a strange weaving pattern that remindedKennally of a snake preparing to strike. Out of the corner of his eye he kept track of the men's progress, and when they had fanned out, cutting off any possible avenue of escape for the boy, he signaled them to move forward.

He began talking to Jeff, speaking in the soothing tones he'd use on a frightened animal.

As Frank Kramer drew close, Jeff suddenly struck out with his right fist, clipping Kramer on the shoulder, sending him reeling back. "Shit!" he heard Kramer exclaim. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

But Jeff didn't hear, his eyes now fixed warily on Wes Jenkins.

Then, as Joe Rankin approached from the opposite side,Kennally saw their opportunity. "Now!" he snapped. Dropping the light in his hand, he leaped forward.

Jeff, ignoring the injury to his ankle, scrambled to his feet and pressed closer to the boulder. His fists began to lash out as the three men closed on him.

It finally took all four of them to subdue the furiously fighting teenager, and in the end they had to carry him back down the hillside, his hands cuffed together behind his back, his ankles manacled with a second set of handcuffs. Even as they carried him across the footbridge and worked him into the back of the station wagon, he was still thrashing in their arms, twisting wildly as he tried to escape their grasp.

From his throat emerged a series of feral howls, like the anguished cries of a coyote whose foot has been clamped in a trap.

Chapter Twelve

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Frank Kramer asked. He glanced nervously over his shoulder. In the rear compartment of the station wagon JeffLaConner was still struggling against the handcuffs that manacled his hands and feet. His right ankle was swelling rapidly, and though the metal band dug deeply into his flesh, he was apparently oblivious to the pain of his injury. He was curled up tightly in the confining space behind the heavy wire mesh, but as Kramer watched, the boy suddenly wrenched himself around and his feet lashed out at the barrier itself. The mesh bulged slightly, but held firm. In Jeff's throat a strange, keening wail was building.

"Some kind of mental breakdown," DickKennally replied tersely. They were through the town itself now, and the road narrowed as they headed east toward Rocky Mountain High, where a few lights glowed dimly in the darkness. He grimaced as he heard Jeff's feet crash once more into the mesh of the barrier. Then Mitzi, sitting up on the seat between Kramer and Joe Rankin, began barking. "Can't you shut that dog up?"Kennally asked.

"It's better than listening to the racket the boy's making," Rankin replied sourly. Then, catchingKennally's glare in the rearview mirror, he laid a hand on the dog's bristling hackles. "Easy, Mitzi," he murmured. "Nothing to worry about."

Mitzi's barking subsided to a low growl, but as the station wagon gained speed and they left the town behind, Rankin could still feel the tension in the dog's muscles.

Kennallyslowed the car and made the turn into the narrow driveway that led to the sports center. He sounded the horn, but even as its blare momentarily drowned out Jeff's anguished wails, the gates were beginning to swing open.Kennally waited impatiently, then gunned the station wagon through the gap even before the gates had opened fully. As he sped through, an attendant signaled him to go around to the back of the building.

He braked to a stop in front of an open door. The harsh brilliance of halogen floodlights cut through the darkness, andKennally had to shield his eyes as he stepped out of the car. The others were on the driveway now, too, but Mitzi had remained where she was, her watchful eyes on JeffLaConner.

The white glare of the lights shone brightly through the car's windows, and the sudden illumination seemed somehow to have affected the boy, for suddenly he was lying still, his eyes clamped shut, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle-as if he were trying to escape the light.

Martin Ames, wearing a white lab coat unbuttoned down the front, only partially covering his flannel shirt, stepped out of the door and peered into the station wagon. His lips tightened into a grim line, then he glanced atKennally. "How bad was it, Dick?"

Kennallyshrugged, as if to belittle the struggle that had taken place on the hillside half an hour earlier. "Well, let's just say he wasn't too interested in coming with us," he finally answered. He gestured to the other three men. "Let's get him inside."

Joe Rankin carefully raised the station wagon's rear door.

Almost instantly Jeff twisted himself around and his legs lashed out. Rankin dodged away from the boy's flailing kicks, and with Wes Jenkins's help, pinioned his legs to the floor of the car. A moment laterKennally and Kramer had grasped Jeff's arms. With the boy still struggling to free himself, they carried him inside the building.

"In there," Marty Ames instructed, nodding to an open door a few yards down the hall. The four policemen carried Jeff into a small room, its white wallsshadowlessly illuminated by overhead fluorescent tubes. In the center of the room stood a large table with heavy mesh straps laid neatly across each of its ends. As two attendants moved the straps aside, the officers placed JeffLaConner on the table. The attendants, working quickly, bound Jeff's legs tightly to the table, immobilizing them. Only then didKennally remove the leg manacles.