He spoke again. “My little girl—”
“You have a daughter?” I said loudly. “Where is she?”
His eyes flickered but he did not speak. His head slumped forward again. I shouted at him, then felt his jaw line and dug my thumb into his neck, but could find no pulse. As a favor to him I burned him carefully through the base of the brain before I left.
The child was in bed in one of the rooms, a girl of eight or so who would have been pretty had she been well. She roused and cried and called me Daddy. “Yes, yes,” I said soothingly, “Daddy’s going to take care of you.” I gave her the injection in her leg; I don’t think she noticed it.
I turned to go but she called out again. “I’m thirsty. Want a drink of water.” So I had to go back into that bathroom again.
As I was giving it to her my phone shrilled and I spilled some of it. “Son! Can you hear me?”
I reached for my belt and switched on my phone. “Yes. What’s up?”
“I’m in that little park just north of you. Can you come? I’m in trouble.”
“Coming!” I put down the glass and started to leave—then caught by indecision, I turned back. I could not leave my new friend to wake up in that charnel house, a parent dead in each room. I gathered her up in my arms and stumbled down to the second floor. There I entered the first door I came to and laid her on a sofa. There were people in the flat, probably too sick to bother with her, but it was all I could do.
“Hurry, son!”
“On my way!” I dashed out of there and wasted no more breath talking to him, but made speed. Dad’s assignment was directly north of mine, paralleling it and fronting on one of those pint-sized downtown parks. When I got around the block I did not see him at first and ran on past him.
“Here, son, over here—at the car!” This time I could hear him both through the phone and my bare ear. I swung around and spotted the car, a big Cadillac duo much like the Section often used. There was someone inside but it was too dark for me to see whether or not it was the Old Man. I approached cautiously until I heard him say, “Thank God! I thought you would never come,” and knew that it was he.
I had to duck to get in through the door. It was then that he clipped me.
I came to, to find my hands tied and my ankles as well. I was in the second driver’s seat of the car and the Old Man was in the other, at the controls. The wheel on my side was latched up out of the way. The sudden realization that the car was in the air brought me fully awake.
He turned and said cheerfully, “Feeling better?” I could see his slug, riding high on his shoulders.
“Some better,” I admitted.
“Sorry I had to hit you,” he went on, “but there was no other way.”
“I suppose not.”
“I’ll have to leave you tied up for the present; you know that. Later on we can make better arrangements.” He grinned, his old wicked grin. Most amazingly his own personality came through with every word the slug said.
I did not ask what “better arrangements” were possible; I did not need nor want to know. I concentrated on checking my bonds; I need not have bothered—the Old Man had given them his personal attention.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“South.” He fiddled with the controls. “‘Way south. Just give me a moment to lay this heap in the groove and I will explain what’s in store for us.” He was busy for a few seconds, then said, “There—that will hold her until she levels off at thirty thousand.”
The mention of that much altitude caused me to take a quick look at the control board. The duo did not merely look like one of the Section’s cars; it actually was one of our souped-up jobs. “Where did you get this car?” I asked.