I find them just as he wakes up and clutches his bleeding head. I guide him into the backseat and hop in the front.By the time they start shooting again, I’ve already started the car.It’s only when I peel out of the parking lot and a bullet flies through the back window, shattering the glass, that the rules of time and space begin to conform to something resembling normal again. I whip my head around to make sure Serge hasn’t been hit, then push the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer swings to 110 as I reach the Bridge of Unity.“Anthem,” Serge says from the backseat. “You can slow down now. It is not in their interest to follow us.” His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, his expression a mix of awe and—if I’m reading him correctly—pride. I slow the car down to eighty and take a deep, shuddering breath. My mind is utterly blank as the adrenaline in my veins begins to ebb. How can I possibly explain to him what just happened? How can I explain it to myself?“How’s your head?”
