DOA CHAPTER FIVE We All Wear Masks I’ve driven a Nineteen Thirties racing Bentley through strange dimensions, and piloted an experimental jet over worlds that don’t even have names yet. I’ve run across carriage rooftops on the Trans-Siberian Express, and sailed a ship through a Faerie Gate. But I still say travelling in that ambulance from the Peter Paul Clinic to the Wulfshead Club is one of the most nerve-racking things I’ve ever done. Even though I was sitting in the driver’s seat, I had no control over where we were going or how we were getting there. Mostly I just braced my legs and clung to the unmoving steering wheel with both hands, to keep from being thrown back and forth as the ambulance hit London traffic like a shark thrown into a toddler’s swimming pool. She used her lights and sirens to intimidate everyone into getting out of her way, and when that didn’t work, she was quite happy to play chicken with oncoming cars and threaten to rear-end everything else. Or drive right over them.
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