Hardbingers

19

Cal saw it all—saw the kid step off the curb, saw the mother run to the child, saw the impact, saw two human projectiles that looked like rag dolls.

And then Miller came to a screeching halt behind him, blocking the view. He hopped out of the truck and into the passenger seat.

"Let's go!" He pounded on the dashboard. "Go-go-go!"

Fighting a wave of nausea, Cal flipped the Camry into gear. The tires chirped as he hit the gas.

Neither spoke as they accelerated the half block down to 1st Avenue and turned downtown. Though the FDR might be faster, they'd opted instead for local streets, figuring they'd offer more options.

Somewhere in the forties, Cal gave in to the need to say something.

"Are we proud of ourselves yet?"

He expected a typical Miller reply—like "Fuck you"—but it didn't come.

"Almost missed her," Miller said in a low voice. "For some reason she stopped at the curb. I mean I could have driven up on the sidewalk to take her out, but probably would have wrecked the truck and me along with it."

Cal glanced at him. Something odd in Miller's voice.

"But that didn't happen," Cal said, and added a silent unfortunately.

"No. I was figuring I'd have to settle for just the kid when the woman sees me coming and jumps out to try and save her when there was no way in hell she could. They both looked at me. I saw their eyes—they had the same blue eyes—staring at me just before…"

As Miller's voice trailed off, Cal shook his head. He was feeling worse and worse.

"So… the mother knows it's going to cost her life but she tries anyway?"

"Yeah. She was in the clear."

"But her kid was more important." Cal gave his head another shake. "Does this sound like someone involved with the Otherness? Someone who's a threat to the Ally? What did we just do, Miller? What have we done?"

Miller said, "Pull over."

"What do you mean? We've got to keep moving."

"Pull over, goddammit!" His voice sounded strange. Strained. No questioning the urgency in the tone.

So Cal pulled to the right and stopped midblock. Miller opened his door and leaned out. Cal heard retching and the splat of vomit hitting the pavement. Twice.

Then he straightened and wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he closed the door. He looked pale and sweaty.

Cal stared at him, astonished. "What the—?"

"Just something I ate, okay? Shut up and call the 0. Tell the fucker it's done."

Then he leaned back and closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.