Zero History

“Move!”
Milgrim did as told, shoving the door open and jumping down, managing to bite the
corner of his tongue in the process. He tasted blood, metallic and scary, then knew, in
some new way, that he was simply here, alive for the moment, and that that was that. He
blinked.
And saw Foley lunge around the back of his ruined car, his fists balled, headed straight
for him. While simultaneously, it seemed, the narrow space between them was bisected
by the arrival of Fiona’s duct-taped cowling, like an intrusion from another dimension,
impossible but there it was. Foley seems to vanish as Fiona, in her yellow helmet,
somehow slewed the big bike around in an amazingly tight circle, motor revving. Heidi
stepped forward then, driving Hollis before her, then suddenly picked her up and sat her
on the back of the bike, like someone putting a child on a pony. Milgrim saw Fiona toss
Heidi the spare helmet, and hallucinated hairspray as Heidi popped it on Hollis’s head,
giving Fiona’s yellow helmet a rap with her knuckles. He saw Fiona make a thumbs-up
gesture without taking her hand off the throttle, and then she roared away, Hollis
throwing her arms around her.
“Where’s Foley?” Milgrim asked, trying to look in every direction at once.
“That way,” said Heidi, pointing down the street. “His driver grabbed him. We’re this
way. Move.” She pointed past the truck, into the passage.
“My laptop,” Milgrim said, remembering. He ran around the back of the truck, reached
into the cab, hauling his bag out.
“Hang tough,” said Heidi to Aldous, who was lighting a cigarette now, with an elegant
silver lighter. She fist-bumped his black-suited shoulder as she passed.
And for the first time, Milgrim heard the sirens, foreign, British, and so many.
As quickly as he could, he followed Heidi’s tall, straight back.