The ringing in my ears begins to clear and now I can hear muffled screams as people realize what’s happened and start to panic. I don’t see any bodies, and I didn’t feel anyone die, so that’s good. It looks like I was the only one near the cars when the bomb went off.

Sirens getting closer. I stand up and the world tilts the wrong way. I’m not running anywhere, and I’m sure as hell not stealing a car. None of these things are remotely drivable. I sit down, try to clear my head. I need to think of something before the cops get here.

I pull a HI, MY NAME IS sticker out of my messenger bag, write I AM YOUR SUPERVISOR on it, pump it with some magic, and slap it on my chest. The last time I did this when I was mildly concussed I tried writing SOMEBODY IMPORTANT and it came out SOMEBODY IMPOTENT. That didn’t go so well.

A black and white screeches into the parking lot, stopping just short of the curb. One officer, stepping out of the car and calling the scene in on his radio. He sees me and I wave him over, letting the Sharpie magic do its thing.

“Holy shit, sir,” he says, running over to me.

“Help me up and get me the fuck outta here.”

“I think we should wait for the paramedics, sir.”

“Did I fucking tell you to think?” I say, hoping the magic backs me up. The thing about Sharpie magic is that, like most spells, it’s more based on intent than appearance. I could have just written COP on it, and as long as the intent was “cop in charge whose orders you have to follow,” it would have worked the same. At the same time, the words shape the message. If someone has problems with authority, writing SUPERVISOR won’t work as well.

“Yes, sir,” he says, helping me up. He’s a younger guy with puppy energy. Looks like he’s straight out of the Academy. His nameplate says HEARNE.

“What’s your first name, kid?”

“Kevin,” he says as he helps me into the passenger seat of his car. “Which hospital am I taking you to, sir?” His eyes are a little glazed over. I might have overdone it a little on the Sharpie magic.

“No hospital, Kevin. I need you to get me to, uh . . . a safehouse. In the Valley.” I give him the address to Chu’s place in Encino. When we get there I can have Letitia take over. As a cop and somebody working the Cleanup Crew she’ll know how to handle him.

“On it.” He guns the engine as soon as my seatbelt’s locked and hits the lights. As he speeds away I can see other black and whites heading into the parking lot with a bomb squad truck close behind.