“Safe?” I sputtered. “Locked in a…a…what is this place, anyway?” As I looked around, overhead lights came on with the “thunk” sounds of breakers closing. It appeared to be a…garage? There were parking spaces for sports cars, trucks, a nondescript sedan or two, even a motorcycle.

“It’s the spare mech garage,” Nicky explained. “Think you can drive any of these?”

“Are you kidding? Why would I need to be able to drive?”

“I thought New York City was where nobody owns a car but everybody drives,” Nicky said.

I snorted. “Not quite everybody.” I frowned. “Can’t you just beam yourself into one like with my iPhone?”

“Not…quite,” Nicky admitted. “I’ll have to crawl in through the iPod dock…and it’s not set up for that, so it will take time to reconfigure. And we really need to hit the road before they find a way around that door.”

I sighed. “Then we have a problem.” Then my eye fell on one of the motorcycles. “Except…I have ridden dirt bikes before. Just off-road—I never got a license.”

“Good enough. Let’s go!”

View this story's 1 comments.