“I thought
this was supposed to be an easy
assignment!” I shouted over my shoulder at Bast. He was a faster runner than I
was, but when the guy we were tailing had turned toward us and started firing,
he’d practically leapt between us and let me take the lead as we ran.
“Yeah,
well, the best-laid plans of mice and men, you know…” he yelled, and I could
picture him grinning despite the seriousness of the situation.
“You might be sanguine about being shot
at and chased,” I threw back, “but I am definitely not ok with this.” Despite working out regularly, I was already
starting to run out of breath. I risked a glance behind us on a straightaway
between buildings, and saw there were now three guys chasing us, about fifty
feet behind. Thankfully, they were too far away to shoot at us, but we did not
have enough of a lead to try to hide anywhere.
“Bloody
manufacturing districts, all huge warehouses, tall fences, and locked gates,” I
muttered to myself, turning a street corner and finding nothing but more
businesses, empty in the fading summer twilight. “Where’s a convenient alley to
duck into when you need one?”
Two more
figures barreled out of a cross street ahead of us; one pointed at us and the
other dropped into a shooter’s stance, then I lost track of them as Bast
grabbed my arm and yanked me across the deserted road. We raced across a
massive, empty parking lot, staying out of the pools of lamplight in case any
of our pursuers were expert marksmen. I could feel a stitch forming in my side
and knew I couldn’t do this much longer.
“A tree…
Bast, get me to a tree…” I panted. He shook his head, running beside me now.
“We don’t
have time to wait for you to get into communication mode,” he protested.
“Don’t need
to. Trust me – ow – just find me a tree taller than you.” I was slowing down,
holding my side as my breathing became harsher. Bast glanced behind us and
muttered a curse.
“Fine. Stay
with me, I think there’s some this way.” He pulled me to the right and I heard the
distant sounds of a busy highway, then a huge mountain of something pale loomed
ahead of us, dwarfing the warehouses beside it. I tasted salt on my already
parched tongue as we sped past it, then down a narrow aisle between two smaller
hills, gleaming in the darkness.
“Two sets
of train tracks, then we’ll be at a couple trees.” Bast said, his breathing
getting harder. Someone shouted behind us and footsteps echoed off the sloping
salt walls. “And whatever you have in mind, I hope you can do it fast, because
I don’t think these guys want to chat…”
We burst
out of the narrow aisle into open space and headed for a tiny strip of greenery
sandwiched between Baltimore’s winter salt stores and twenty lanes of I-95 toll
booths. We scrambled gracelessly over the gravel train tracks and I dredged up
one last burst of energy to cover the last twenty feet of bare ground. A shot
rang out and Bast swore; I grabbed his hand as he stumbled beside me then touched
one of the trees, stepped inside, and pulled him in after me.
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