Carefully, I picked her up. Her body was childlike in my arms as I carried her out of the apartment, down the elevator. In the lobby, the security guard stepped forward with An offer of help. I turned cold eyes on him, and he stepped back. I put her in my car, accelerated recklessly out into traffic. Even as I searched my memory for the nearest trauma clinic, I knew it was useless. Buddy was gone. The intrusion countermeasures of the Crashcart system had killed her.