Alex dared to look again in the infrared. The vampires were still in pursuit. “They’re coming after us because they want that caravan kept secret,” said Sangster, almost casually considering the danger at hand. “We’re close to HQ. Maybe we can lose them.” Sangster reached up, tapped a button on his glasses, and now in Alex’s goggle vision—surely also through Sangster’s—a GPS map appeared. The image displayed over the view in front of him, so that the map bounced amid the trees. “Farmhouse,” Sangster said, swerving hard to avoid a branch. The vampires’ shapes were leaping closer. “Please repeat your request,” came a singsong sound response. “FARM-HOUSE.” The GPS view before Alex’s eyes shifted. First it showed one location, which it indicated with the symbol of a little roofed house, and then the camera rose up into the sky and located the motorcycle moving through the woods. Then the GPS drew a line between the two: their path. “That’s two miles away.”
