“So, he wasa friend of yours?”
Rick snorted. “Not likely. A bit of a creep, but you have to get along with people. He was a techie in one of the buildings I covered. We were—acquaintances.”
I nodded, and then gave a little cry, for there came a flurry of gunshots from our right. Rick immediately turned the car into an alley, and we gunned along this.
“Not long now,” he said, and sure enough, we soon saw the entrance ramp in the middle distance. Rick slowed at this point, scanning the surroundings. “If there’s going to be a trap,” he said, “that would be a good place for it.”
He eased on, the car making virtually no noise, and then he gunned it. We raced toward the ramp. There was a single shot, which passed through a back window, so that I gave a smothered shriek. But then we were up the ramp and onto the freeway.
Here there were abandoned vehicles: late-night drivers whose cars gave up the ghost when the EMP hit their computer-controlled cars and trucks.