Sprinting, after eating a six inch meatball sub, was not an experience Miller was in any rush to replicate. Earth's gravity tugged at him on a good day; right now, it seemed to encourage his joints to put up a white flag.
If only because Ray was there and clearly enjoying himself, Miller resisted the urge to sit down on the sunbaked asphalt. He made do with bracing his hands on his knees for a bit, until his lungs stopped spasming and his heart quit trying to pound its way out through his ribs.
In that time, Ray managed to get one of the car doors and its hood open. By the time Miller could join him in circling the thing, the likelihood of danger seemed somewhat diminished. "How're we looking?" he asked, better able to gauge the answer by looking at Ray than the car. "Is it what you were after?"