“Right, then,” Donovan said as he quickly fumbled through the box, “Crim, you know the drill.” He pulled a small red pouch from the box and tossed it over his shoulder. My eyes followed its high arc, an inch from brushing along the black material lining the ceiling. “I have some business to attend,” Donovan muttered as the pouch began to fall, “so you’ll be looking after Richard. We’re going to be needing travel supplies,” he said as Crimson reached out his hand, “sleeping bags, light toiletries, cigarettes, and coffee mix.” The pouch landed perfectly in Crimson’s hand, as though it couldn’t possibly have landed anywhere else.
Donovan rose and turned to face us. He reached into a deep pocket of his coat, dug around for a moment, and pulled out his hand along with a tightly folded paper and a disposable cigarette lighter. He handed the items to Crimson, and then returned to the box once more, pulling out a brown pouch. He held the pouch in his hand thoughtfully for a moment, and then dropped it into his coat pocket. “Right, then,” he said, turning to face the door, “Time to be off.”
We exited the basement room, Donovan leading the way. Crimson stopped to close the heavy metal door as Donovan began climbing the stairs. I turned around, noticing that Crimson was staring back into the room. I asked what was the matter, and he shook his head and quickly closed the door. “It’s just that it seems like such a waste to abandon this place. It’s so hard find so much lead.” We climbed the stairs after Donovan and made our way outside through the rickety, dusty old building. Donovan began walking down the street to the left, and I followed Crimson to the right toward a corner. We stopped to sit down on a bench next to a bus stop sign. The streets were empty except for the trees, which had dropped most of their leaves in honor of autumn. A cold wind blew through the small valley created by the buildings.
“So what did Donovan tell you?” Crimson asked. He turned toward me, his short red-dyed hair standing perfectly still and hugging his head.
“Not much,” I replied. “He sort of told me about being in hospitals, and something about Psionics. He didn’t have time to really explain it.”
Crimson nodded, looking down at the sidewalk. “It’s hard to explain and actually have it make sense. Sometimes it doesn’t even make sense to me,” he said as he turned back toward me, “and I’ve been living with it for a few years now.”
“How did you find out about it?” I asked. He looked back down at the sidewalk, and sighed heavily. He seemed somewhat disturbed, like he was treading down a dusty road that he had tried hard to forget. He tried to crack a smile, but his eyes betrayed him.
“Same way you did, I’m guessing. You try to lead a good life, keep yourself disciplined, work toward success.” He shrugged his shoulders. “If only I knew back then that it wouldn’t really matter. The world seemed so,” he paused. “So sane. So perfect. So logical. But now, none of that matters. I know better.”
He stood up, walked around in front of me, waving his arms around like he was swimming. “There’s this whole world around us, Rich. We see it, we hear it, and we smell it. It’s all around us. You know? We’re right here, you and me. But where are we? Where are we seeing the world from?”
“From right here,” I said. It seemed like a simple enough question, but I got the feeling that I had answered incorrectly, as Crimson began chuckling.
“But how do you know? You’re seeing the world from your eyes, hearing it from your ears. But where are you?” I pointed to the bench. He laughed harder. “I mean, not your body, but you yourself. The little voice that lives in your head. That can call up whatever images you want to imagine or memories that you want to remember. Where does it live? Is it inside your head? If I cut your head off, would that little voice keep talking?”
“Ok,” I said, shaking my head, “this is a little weird. I really don’t feel up to testing your theory.” He laughed even harder.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to decapitate you. You’re one of us now, or at least you will be soon. We take care of each other, because we’re all we have.”
“You don’t have any other friends?” I asked. He shook his head. “Family?” Another negative response.
“We have to keep a pretty low profile to stay a step ahead of the feds. Donovan was lucky enough to get away from them back in the day, but lately they’ve been a step behind us. Friends, family, and other contacts are all potential leads for them. If they figure out who you are, and they figure out how to get to you through people you care about, it isn’t pretty. It’s better to just avoid the situation.”
“What do you mean? Are they going to take my friends in for questioning or something?”
“Well, I’d assume right now that they don’t know of you, so your friends should be safe. You might want to check, just in case. There’s a phone right around the corner, if you need to call anyone.” I nodded, and he passed me a handful of quarters. I walked around the corner and found the phone booth. “Be quick, the bus will be here soon.”
I pumped a few coins into the phone and dialed the number for my dorm room back at the university. I figured by now, my roommate would be getting worried about me. The phone rang a few times, and then he picked up.
“Hey,” I said, “It’s me.”
“Richard, where are you man? Everyone’s been looking for you. Are you all right? Where are you?”
“I’m alright,” I said, “I’ll just be away for a while. Who’s been looking for me?”
“Well, your parents wanted to know when you’d be home for the break. They called the other night. And there’ve been some guys at the dorm looking for you.”
“What guys are those? Anyone you know?”
“No, nobody I know. They were wearing black suits and sunglasses.” I could feel my eyes widening and my pulse quickening. “Are you in some kind of trouble, dude?”
“No, no trouble. If they come around again, tell them I’ll be back in the next couple days.”
“OK, will do. So where are you?” I hung up the phone, and looked down at the sidewalk, trying to collect my thoughts. Crimson was wrong, they had figured out who I was. How did they know? I decided that it didn’t matter. Hopefully they wouldn’t find my parents. My parents! I pumped a few more coins into the phone, picked up the receiver, and prepared to dial, when I heard my name called from around the corner. I looked up to see Crimson running toward me, waving for me to come back. I hit the coin return, grabbed the change, and ran back to the corner to meet him.
“Look back the way we came,” he whispered. I walked up to the building at the corner, and as I was about to stick my head around the corner, Crimson grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “Slowly,” he whispered with emphasis. I slowly and carefully peeked around the corner, and saw a black car screech to a halt out in front of the building that we had exited. The car’s doors opened, and two men in black suits climbed out and ran up the steps and into the building. I turned back toward the phone booth and put my back against the wall. I was breathing as quickly as my heart was beating. My mouth was dry. I felt like I was going to be sick. “Stalkers.”
I began to hear the dull moan of a bus engine approaching. “Try to act natural,” Crimson said as he started walking back toward the bus stop. I pressed my back against the wall and took a steadying breath, then turned to the left to follow. The bus stopped in front of us, the doors opened, and we climbed aboard, finding seats in the middle. The bus began to roll forward. Crimson turned around to look out the back window, then quickly turned to face forward again. His face looked white. His hand tightly gripped the top of the seat in front of him, his knuckles turning pale under the pressure. I turned back to see what was wrong, and saw the black car speeding toward us. I turned back, trying to look as casual as possible. The black car flew by us on the left, and I could see some red light flashing into the bus through the left windows. The bus slowed, and rumbled toward the right side of the street, stopping after a few seconds. The brakes let out a gushing hiss. The black car stopped directly in front of the bus.
“Come on!” Crimson yelled as he stood up in the aisle, drawing the confused stares of several other passengers. He turned toward the back of the bus, narrowed his eyes, and broke into a fast stride. I envisioned him as a sprinter, and could almost hear the echo of the starting pistol going off as he ran toward the back of the bus at full speed. An old woman screamed as she dove toward the window. A man who had until recently been stretching his legs suddenly jumped away from the aisle, making room. Only a few feet separated Crimson from the back door of the bus. I thought he was going to stop and pull the emergency exit lever, so I stood up and ran toward the back to catch up.
But he didn’t stop. Instead, he took one final step, planting his right foot. He brought his left knee up, put his head down, and his arms stretched out in front of him, hands together. He sprang into the air and straightened his legs, turning his body into a speeding javelin as he approached the window. My eyes shot open, but then I quickly brought my arms up to shield them from the glass shards as Crimson smashed through the window of the back door and flew straight out over the road. I slid to a stop, sending glass fragments scattering all around the floor under the last few rows of seats. I still looked forward at Crimson, as he brought his arms in close, pulled his head down, and swung his feet and legs up high over his body, tucking into an aerial summersault. Gravity took over, and he landed neatly on his feet.
He turned back toward me, eyes wide, and reached out his hand, waving for me to follow. I put a foot up on the base of the window and reached a hand out to grab a side, careful to avoid the few remaining shards of glass that hadn’t yet fallen. As I pulled myself up into the window and prepared to jump down to the pavement, I turned my head back around toward the front of the bus. A black suited man had boarded, and was reaching a hand through the opening in the front of his jacket. Somehow I knew what he was reaching for. I didn’t want to be shot, but as I looked back down toward the pavement, I realized that I also didn’t want to break a leg jumping. I looked back up toward Crimson. He had lowered his arm. He contorted his face into a frown, shot his arm toward me, and closed his eyes. I could feel a force lifting me up from the window, and I heard a small explosion behind me.
The wind blew softly, sending the remaining leaves on the trees into a gentle rustle. I saw the vortex of air behind the bullet as it flew past me harmlessly. I was soaring, sailing, and then I landed softly in front of Crimson. “Run!” he yelled, grabbing my arm and pulling me along behind him. Another spark ignited behind us, and we ducked in unison, the projectile flying past over our heads. We jumped to the left, and darted around the corner of a building, and a piece of wood siding exploded as we passed. We ran through someone’s lawn, through a backyard, jumping over ornaments and dodging children’s toys. I heard a woman’s voice yelling from a window, but I couldn’t make out the words. We kept running, kept running, couldn’t stop. Our legs were like gears, spinning out of control. We reached a back street, and paused for a moment to catch our breath.
“Who were they?” I panted. Crimson turned around and sat down on the sidewalk, legs stretched out and arms back supporting him. He shook his head as he panted hard, trying to catch his breath. He looked like he had been running for days.
“Stalkers,” he said. “Government agents that work for the Psionics research department of the FBI. They’re specially trained to hunt us down, and either capture us,” he paused for a breath of air, “or kill us.”
“How did they find us?” I asked, looking back through the path we had covered, preparing to run again if necessary.
“They got Bronze this morning. Either he told them everything, or they scanned his brain and took what they needed to know. That’s why they went to the stadium, and they scrambled when they didn’t find anything there. Who did you talk to on the phone?”
“My roommate,” I replied. “He said some of them came to my dorm to look for me.”
“Damn!” he grunted as he slapped his hand down against the sidewalk. “We’re so screwed. We’re going to have to get what we need and meet Donovan quick.”
“Where do we meet him?” I asked.
Crimson shook his head. “I don’t know yet. It’s written on the paper. We don’t open it until the time comes to meet him. That way if anything goes wrong and they catch us, we just burn the note, and Donovan can get away in time. If we knew where to go, they could get it out of us.”
Just then I heard a screeching sound around the next corner. Crimson’s ears perked up, and both of our eyes shot open. We jumped to our feet and took off running. I looked back and caught a glimpse of the black car sliding around the corner. I could hear the engine grinding behind us. Crimson grabbed my arm and jumped off to the left, pulling me along as I twisted my legs in an attempt to right myself and keep from falling. The car sailed past us, turning to the left and skidding to a stop, tires squealing. As we ran into an alley, I heard the car doors slam.
We were running between tall cement brick apartment buildings. The narrow, paved alley ran perpendicular to the street, clear except for the occasional puddle and trash can. As we approached the back door to one of the apartments, Crimson jumped to the side and shouldered me into the doorway. I hit the wall hard, letting out a gasp and catching my balance, as he yelled, “Meet me on the other side!” and continued to run. I pulled the door open and swung around to the inside of the building, leaving the door open only a crack and looking into the alley. The two men in black ran past, brandishing their pistols. I turned around and ran up a flight of stairs.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I was faced with a corner. One path went in the direction parallel to the alley, the other off to the right. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to catch up going straight, so I hoped that at some point the alley would turn. I ran to the right. A door opened and a man peeked his head out, surprised by all the noise. I ignored him and pressed on, running as fast as my legs could take me. I reached a corner at the end of the hallway, and turned to the left. My legs pumped as I slid around the corner. As I neared an elevator, the doors opened, and a woman emerged. She was burdened with grocery bags, and couldn’t see me approaching. I jumped to the left, curving my path barely into the elevator, then back out, just barely clipping the woman on the shoulder. “Sorry!” I yelled as I caught my balance and continued running.
I reached another corner, with a window overlooking the alley. A few potted plants sat upon the windowsill. As I looked down into the alley, I could hear footfalls approaching. Crimson popped out from the edge of my vision, racing past, eyes not straying from the path in front of him. A moment later, the two men appeared. As they drew close, I contemplated what to do. I had to lend some aid to Crimson, or they’d catch him for sure. They were so fast! As I looked down at them, my eyes shifted focus and fell upon the plant pots. I grinned, grabbing the first pot and hurling it down into the alley. The two men jumped to opposite sides of the alley, diving out of the way to avoid the projectile. The pot exploded, and they lay covering their faces to avoid the dirt and chunks of broken pottery. As I pushed the other pot off the sill, I noticed one of the men had pulled his hands to the side and was pointing his pistol at me. I turned to the side, hiding my face from the open window, as the shot rang out. I heard the smash as the pot exploded outside, and darted my eyes to the side to see two more bullets fly by and lodge themselves into the ceiling above me. I dropped to my knees and crawled past the window, moving back the way I had come. When I was clear, I pushed myself off the floor with my hands, breaking into a run as I raised myself.
I reached the elevator, and pressed the Up button. The elevator hadn’t moved since my previous pass, and the doors opened immediately. I jumped into the elevator and quickly scanned the button panel. I breathed a sigh of relief as I found the button that would send me to the roof, and pressed it. The doors closed too slowly, and the elevator lurched upward. My stomach sank. What had I gotten myself into? It wasn’t important. All that was important was to protect Crimson. His words rang in my head, “We take care of each other, because we’re all we have.”
The panel let out a ding, and the doors opened. Cold, crisp air flowed in from the outside. I jumped out of the elevator and looked around, getting my bearings. I turned to the direction that Crimson was moving and started running toward the edge of the roof. I looked down, and could make out the men in the black suits below me. I turned and ran along the edge, but finally reached a corner. The end of the line. The men were getting away, and the only way to go was back. “I can’t give up,” I said out loud as I looked straight ahead. I was looking over a branch in the alley, toward the building across the way. Its roof was level with the one on which I stood. I judged the distance across the alley to be about fifteen feet. I turned around and ran back a few paces, then turned back to face the crevice. “I can make it,” I said to myself, “I have to make it.” I sprang into a dash, sprinting toward the edge of the roof, holding my breath as I ran. I could see an image in my mind of Crimson flying through the window of the bus. I had to focus. The edge was three paces away. Two paces. One pace. I firmly planted my left foot on the edge, and pushed off with as much force as I could muster. I threw my right leg forward as I soared over the dank alley. The wind took my hair back, and my arms flailed at my sides. The other edge drew near, and my right foot landed safely. I lost my balance and fell forward, rolling across the new roof, landing in a heap.
I gasped for breath as the realization hit me. I had made it. I was still alive. Now I had to get to Crimson. I stood up and ran off to the left toward the main alley. I could see the men in the black suits turning around a corner to the right, and quickened my pace. I ran at full speed across the roof, knowing where I would have to meet them. As the far edge came into sight, I turned to the right and ran toward the far corner. I could hear Crimson’s footsteps echoing in the alley below as my right foot landed on the corner, sending me up into the air across the alleyway. “Keep going!” I yelled as I flew through the air over the gap. I heard a shot from the alley, and as I landed on the opposite roof, a cloud of dust sprang up from the wall below, inches away from my foot. I kept running parallel to the alley, hearing my own footsteps as well as those of Crimson down below. But then my eyes opened wide, as I realized the building that I was running along was L shaped. The alley would soon end, and Crimson would have nowhere to run. I sprang ahead, running as fast, even faster, than I possibly could. I could feel the electricity flowing through my limbs as my legs moved too fast for my eyes to see. I slid around the corner, and looked down at Crimson as he drew near to the dead end. Even from the great distance, I could make out the dread in his eyes. He must have known he was trapped.
I looked down along the wall, and noticed that there was a balcony a floor below me. “Jump!” I yelled, pointing down toward the balcony. Crimson took a small step, brought his legs together, ducked down close to the ground, and sprang upward. He left a cloud of dust in his wake as he launched up from the pavement. His eyes widened as he sailed upward and toward the balcony. He pulled up his legs, feet together, preparing to land on the balcony as he reached the apex of his impossible leap. But I realized that he was still too low. He wouldn’t make it.
At the last second, he swung his arms down and around behind his back, then up over his head. He let the momentum pull his head down and his legs up and around. He landed with his feet barely on the edge of the balcony, knees bent back and supporting his body, which hung over the ledge. He reached his arms upward, but couldn’t quite reach the ledge. He was horribly off balance, and I knew he couldn’t maintain the excruciatingly awkward position for long. I jumped down from the roof, landing on the balcony before him, and let gravity pull my upper body over the ledge. I reached out a hand and grabbed his wobbling arm, and gripped a deck chair with my other hand. Together, we pulled each other fully onto the balcony, just as the shots rang out from below. We scrambled on our hands and knees to a sliding glass door between an interior apartment and ourselves. The glass shattered as the bullets flew through, and we lifted our arms to shield ourselves from the glass. Crimson quickly reached through a jagged hole and unlocked the door, throwing it open and releasing even more fragments of glass as we scurried through, into the apartment.
It was a nice abode, with wall-to-wall carpeting and leather upholstered furniture. A woman sat trembling on a puffy sofa, stifling a scream. I placed my hands out wide in front of me, motioning to her that everything was all right. Then I heard a smash from behind. Crimson and I turned to see a small black canister bounce into the room from a new hole in the glass doors. He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the kitchen, toward the large island counter in front of us. He jumped over the top into the kitchen, and I dove across to follow. I landed hard on the tile floor of the kitchen, and my ears exploded from the shock. Then I felt a scorching heat on my back, and realized that the explosion was not just in my head. I saw the flames reflecting on the tile. Smoke filled my lungs as I heard the woman scream. Crimson stood up and pulled me to my feet. We ran through the searing flames to the main doorway. Crimson undid the lock and swung the door open, and we sprang out of the apartment and into the hallway.
An alarm rang, and water sprayed down back in the apartment, coming to the rescue and beating down the flames. “Shit!” I yelled. “What the hell was that?”
“Firebomb,” Crimson coldly replied, gasping hard to catch his breath. “One of their favorite weapons. Come on,” he grunted as he lifted himself to his feet. I picked myself up and followed suit, running down the hallway. We found a staircase and hobbled down the stairs and out the exit into the street. We were on a main street now, with no sign of the alley system in sight. We could see thick black smoke rising up from the roof of the building. We turned away and ran. We didn’t stop running until we were a few blocks away, hiding behind the corner of a building, trying hard to catch our breath, barely hearing the sirens of fire trucks over the beating of our hearts.
Once we composed ourselves, we walked down the street to a bus stop and boarded a bus that went into a shopping area. We stopped at a sporting goods store and picked up a few sleeping bags and random travel supplies. I got the feeling that we weren’t taking a plane, train, or bus to Chicago. Crimson acknowledged my suspicion and said that the Stalkers would be looking for us at any travel outlets. Neither of us had any idea of how we could get out of the city. After clearing the checkout line, we exited the store and were greeted with another bus, which we boarded. Crimson pulled the folded note from his pocket, opened it, and quickly read it. He grinned as he returned it to his pocket. When I asked where we were going, he whispered, “The rail yard behind the warehouse.”
comments? The End?
Home
