Caine turned over and faced the other direction.
Sleep came swiftly. His mind dimmed and his body went limp and there was only blackness.
The cold light of dawn was in his eyes and he woke up swearing. His right hand swung out and caught air. He jumped up and leaped forward, but his hands caught nothing. The boy was away from him, twisting backwards into the undergrowth. Caine knelt, still cursing, one hand on his empty holster. He could see the glint of the pistol in the boy's hand.
"What are you going to do with it," he asked the boy, "now that you've got it?"
"Kill you, Driver."
"Sure," Caine said. "And then who leads you back to your crib?"
The boy's lips worked back and forth over his teeth. He shook the gun in his hand. "I didn't say when I'd do it, Driver. You just stand up and start moving. I'll let you know when. Do you hear me?" The boy's voice rose to a sudden scream. The pistol swept through the air and smashed a vine to pulpy shreds. Then it was pointing again at Caine's stomach. "Move!" the boy yelled.
Caine straightened and began to move through the foliage. The girl started to follow.
"No!" the boy screamed. He jumped to the girl's side and grabbed her arm. He motioned the gun again in the crazy leaping way he did everything.
Caine started through the jungle.