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Number Two was my escort to Panacea while Number One remained behind with JD. We walked around the corner of the storage row to the car. Number Two had taken off his latex gloves, but he still wore dark sunglasses against the late-day sun. I wondered if he slept in them.
“You’re driving,” he said.
“Seriously? I don’t know if I can drive this boat.”
“You better learn fast,” he said, standing by the driver’s door waiting for me to get in. He got in after me, gun in hand the whole time. I could barely see over the front of the car. Number Two watched me stretch my neck and handed me the key.
“The seat adjusts higher, too.”
Thus began the complex system of tiny grinding movements to bring me into a position where I could both reach the pedals and see over the steering wheel. I wished
