Eddie drove along the same avenue as yesterday (only yesterday, but it felt long ago to Bryce) when they'd taken Erin and Leon to the medical center. Since then, more car windows had been smashed and hoods opened with batteries, wires and other parts taken from engine compartments. Tailpipes had gone missing; obviously someone thought that there would always be a market for the precious metals in catalytic converters. Otherwise they saw no sign of human life until Herman's Texaco came into view, almost three miles from the Banner house and eight blocks from the medical center.
What caught their eyes was an extravagantly coloured and chromed Ford deuce coupe, maybe a '32, which hadn't been there yesterday. It had a shark fin on top, an exposed chrome bug catcher over the engine, even more strikingly chromed long headpipes, oversize tires more suited to a monster truck, and two glittering raked-back words: THE KID. In the shadowy interior of the station office was a short guy, maybe just a kid, whose clothes even in shadow looked customized and expensive; there seemed to be all sorts of knickknacks dangling from these textiles and the multiple belts supporting them. One of the belts held two holsters which looked like they might fall off from the weight of the huge pistols, undoubtedly .45s, which nestled in them. Just beyond The Kid was what appeared to be a pair of rolled-up carpets horizontal on the floor.
The Kid turned a split-second before they left his line of sight, but Bryce saw enough of his face over that time. Even disregarding the huge investments he'd made to his appearance, it was obvious that he wasn't on the same wavelength as most people. He looked pale, and delicate despite his fat cheeks and lips . . . but it was his eyes, dead as stones, that gave Bryce tingles. Stones hiding magma, he thought, and tingled all over again.
Bryce said softly, "Way more money than finesse, don't you think, boss?"
"I agree," Eddie said just as softly. He glanced at the mirror to see if The Kid was following, but the deuce coupe still stood empty. Eddie was putting welcome distance from it.
"I think he's cute," Erin whispered quickly. She had put the back of her left hand over the tube so that air could leave through her larynx and mouth. Now she put both hands over her mouth. Her face and ears blushed warmly, showing by far the most color Bryce had seen. It was as though she was embarrassed by her own joke.
Bryce thought she should be. Those rolled-up carpets in that shadowy office were actually legs. Someone was down. The Kid had put someone down.
After two more blocks the medical center, or more accurately its moldering ruins, came into view along with the communications tower about fifty feet west. Erin covered her tube again and moaned, "Noooo" as her eyes watered.
Bryce could guess what she was thinking. The building where doctors had saved her under extremely trying circumstances was gone. The doctors themselves might be gone, killed by fire or sickness. Hundreds of people, the admitted and the waiting, might have burned or been snuffed by smoke.
"Small favour," Eddie said softly, "smoke's blowing away from the tower. We're good to . . . "
The deuce coupe crackled to life. Amplified exhaust and spinning tires bellowed in their own way. Even with the Cadillac's excellent soundproofing, the noises were frightful. The deuce coupe, all orange earth fire and dazzling white sunfire, charged to them like a rocket, blaaat, Blaaat, BLAAAT, BLAAAT! His face, with those awful stone-like eyes, became conspicuous through the convex windshield as he charged his car close.
Erin had dropped across the rear seat, burying one ear in the leather and covering the other with a hand. Bryce felt chills not only from his sickness but from his fear of what The Kid might do. He might, without remorse, terrorize and kill two sick men and a child little more than 12 hours out of surgery. Maybe he'd kill the child last — after making her wish she'd been killed first.
Bryce balled his fists and got ready to fight. Eddie kept driving steadily, leaving Bryce unsure whether he'd brake check or hit the gas. Neither tactic might work.
The deuce coupe charged forward, BLAAAAAT! It was going to ram them!
Except it didn't. With tires squealing, it turned sharply left and quickly disappeared from view behind a building. How could it not have spun out? Its noise began to fade as it accelerated. Eddie made a slow U-turn back to the tower and parked. The noise had stopped getting fainter. The engine roared, subsided and roared again as tires squealed on and on. From time to time the car backfired.
"Sounds like he's at a strip mall four blocks west of here," Eddie said. "Liquor, pharmacy, thrift, diner and groceries."
The engine stopped and about ten seconds later they heard two sharp bangs - not the car's exhaust.
"He fired his guns!" Bryce said. He was going to ask Erin if she still thought The Kid was cute, but the look on her face changed his mind. When Eddie let her out, she scrambled to the nearest large tree and disappeared behind it.