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A Worse Idea 17

Prometheus tumbled across the highway, bouncing on the asphalt. He was protected from grievous injury by his suit, but he was still plenty bruised.

“Suit, call the police,” Prometheus mumbled. He’d hoped to keep them out of it for as long as he could, but at this point he knew he couldn’t protect Katie.

“Calling Patti’s Pizzas…” the suit said.

“Stupid piece of–” Prometheus said.

“Hi, you’ve reached Patti’s Pizzas, Boca’s 24-hour Pizza joint! How may I help you?”

“There’s a guy trying to attack a woman on I-95, by Exit 19.”

After a moment of consideration, the pizza lady said, “Do either of them…” She paused a second time, trying to figure out the best course of action here. “Want a pizza?”

“Call the cops,” Prometheus said. “Hang up.”

This time, when he said, “Hang up,” the headset didn’t hang up.

“Are you telling me to–” Patti said, but was cut off.

“Yes, please. Hang up.”

“Okay,” she said. “Alright then.”

She hung up, so Prometheus said, “Suit, call Anne.”

He was incredibly relieved to hear the suit respond, “Calling Anne…”

After two rings, Anne picked up.

“Done beating people up?” she asked.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sure.”

“So, you want to talk about job stuff?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I want to do the thing,” Anne said. “The work thing.”

“Alright,” he said. “Come in tomorrow afternoon and we’ll figure something out.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “Yeah.”

“Okay?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I’m going to hang up now,” he said.

“You do that,” she said.

He hung up on her. Standing at the edge of the highway, he watched a car whiz past. The Sun was just beginning to rise.

He looked at it, wondering just how long Katie was going to survive. Was she even the girl he knew, or was she something else? Something…


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