Later, the hostage would try to explain to the police that he had no idea who the two assailants were, or where they had come from. They had just appeared, dented his hood, chipped his paint, stolen his battery, they had guns. Do you know how much that battery cost? It was new. And the repairs, do you know what this would do to his marriage? His daughter would never forgive him for being taken hostage.
Later, a woman would send her daughter out to bring in the laundry, and the girl would bring her a muddied towel and blood-stained sheet she had never seen before. She would tell the girl not to tell her father, they didn't need him to worry, and to burn the alien items. The unexplained incident would haunt her and she would harbour a wary suspicion of her daughter for years.
Now, a helicopter passed through the noon sky over the city, a distant hum and a black speck against the hazey gold blaze, making Tony squint when he glanced up. This really was not the time for an International Incident. He had worked hard to build up credit against Nick right now, an International Incident was big enough to lay all of his hard work in ruins. Whoever was chasing them-- the cops, the kidnappers, a combination of the two-- weren't far behind, but Tony slid down the cool wall behind a humming convenience store, cradling the battery in his lap, smelling piss and dirt and the sweet rot of garbage but breathing deeply anyway. They needed a plan.
The heart, tucked in his waistband now, dug into his stomach and reminded him that it was well beyond salvaging. Not that that was ever the goal. But that empty buzz was still in his head, his wounds left unhealed. He loathed giving it up.
A dog lay curled between overflowing garbage bins, thin and mangy, watching them suspiciously through one open eye but too tired to scare the interlopers away from his territory. The plastic container in his hands, Tony watched the dog, waited for it to blink, then glanced to Billy just once before opening the container.
It was surreal to see. Like a movie prop. Too impossibly real, still and solid and thick. Tony realized he didn't expect to see it whole, like he thought maybe they were kind enough to leave him half of his heart to run on, just for now. It was huge Surreal.
Placing the container on the ground before him, he nudged it forward with his foot, the dust scraping underneath it, then carefully curled himself around the battery, watching the dog. It sniffed, lifted its head.
"They didn't take anything of yours, right?" Tony finally thought to ask, still watching the tired stray, an inattentive mumble. He had seen more than he cared to of the kid already, he was pretty sure he would have noticed stitches.
The dog lumbered closer, sniffing, suspicious, still with only one eye open. The other was a black scar, yellowed with puss.