ESCAPE

I grabbed the guard rails to steady my fall. My body swung sideways, crashing into a raised cement floor holding the rails. I stifled a groan, my other hand reached out to grab the rails. It held it firmly, and tried to lower my self down. Two shots found my location. A bullet grazed my chin, blood seeped slowly. The other struck the lower hold of the rails. Metal sparks flew towards my face. The bullet whizzed past me. My bag was strapped to one arm. I let it fall to the floor, and leaped down. I landed steadily, picked up my bag and ran for my car. Another round of shots followed me. I was guessing 'whoever' was using a seven rounds gun, and handling it well at that. My line of thoughts trailed again, and I contemplated seriously. Whoever wanted me dead wasn't Hanselit, I thought. He'd have gotten a shot at me already. That's how skilled of a marksman he was, just like me. I rounded the building and soon faced the gate. If 'whoever' was smart, they'd already be making heads towards the gate. I'd have to ditch my car then. I snuck to the wall, my hands feeling for grooves. I latched onto one, pulling myself up. My bag sat on my back. I climbed faster, wouldn't want the other tenants to see me climbing the fence walls instead of taking the gate. My fingers gripped the rough fence top and pulled. I managed to sit on the fence, and looked down. Outside the fence was a somewhat dim alley. A perfect escape. I heard shuffling of feet. Gun in my hand, I squeezed the trigger. A soft groan drew my attention to the guard railing of the fire escape. 'whoever' hadn't followed through to the gate, instead had tried following me through the fire escape. I slapped my forehead, angry at myself. 'whoever' was surely an amateur Suit. I looked at the railings as a young lady came into view. She had the brown hair I'd caught a wisp of earlier, tank top, rough faded jeans snuggled her hips, staying glued to her thighs—Sexy, I'd give her that. She crouched low, her gun hand cradled her shoulder where I'd hit. She stared angrily, I grimaced. I shot towards her again—twice. She ducked to the side to avoid one. The other struck her thighs squarely. She sat there staring at me again, all the while heaving a painful groan. There was nothing protecting her from me, which should have been the opposite. But I didn't feel like killing her—yet. The whole happenings didn't really sit well with me at all. She didn't look gruesome enough to have killed Tate like that. Then who? I jumped into the alley, picked up my bag and made a full sprint. The sooner I got away from here, the better. There was another larger building on the side, which contributed to the darkness along the alley. I reached the intersection minutes later. I turned left and hastened my pace. The road was as silent and as dimly lit as the one I'd come out from. The road was empty too. I noticed a few closed shops, litter was everywhere. I could even smell sewage, a young man and woman having intense sex behind a kiosk, rats scrambling straight from the sewer ahead. This was potty road: the most foul-smelling street in the whole of Tibet. It was longer too. Different smaller roads diverged to other places. Some to shops and houses. I planned on taking a left turn at the junction. From there, I'd be seeing my apartment building from a distance. I figured 'sexy amateur' should have left my place by now. Probably looking for me or tending to her injuries. I pretty much preferred the latter. That way, I'd have more time to take my car, and get as far as I could from here. I increased my pace, turned left and soon reached the building. I scrutinized the area, making sure no one was following me. I crossed towards Tate's bakery. I suddenly felt hungry. I hadn't taken anything that morning except a cold mug of coffee. Sorry Tate. I picked the lock easily and slipped in. Pastries from the previous day lined a shelf at the far end. I grabbed four morsels and put them in my bag. I took another to eat on the way. I got out through the back passage and took a turn to the front of the building. All this hassle for being careful. My car was the way I'd left it. I turned the ignition and the engine roared to life. I switched gears, reversed, switched gears again and drove forward. I didn't even have a particular destination in mind. I just wanted as far away from here as I could. Soft blinding lights by the weekend, floated the air. I bopped my head in rhythm and continued driving. Remington lane was ahead, on the right. It was a highway that ran from Tibet straight to Poppy town. Poppy town was the closest to the borders of White London. I could sell my car and get a ship to New London. It was my fastest escape route. That is, if I got there—poppy town—safely.

Speaking of safely—a bullet shattered my side view mirror. I veered right Into Remington lane, jamming the accelerator. My car sped up and I poked my head outside the window, looking backwards. Three black buggies sped towards me. Two bikers flanked them. I slammed the steering angrily. Who were they? It was very obvious they were after me, but why? They didn't look like Suits at all. I was sure of that. Maybe henchmen of some random basher or something. Did they need me in the first place? Were they trying to kill me? How'd they find me? Did they know I was Ark Vloseif? My mind was pretty much occupied , I didn't notice the bikers had caught up to me. Bullets whizzed past me. I ducked downwards, sideways, right, left—everything I could to keep my head in one piece. Vrooooom! The one on my left sped up, and tried blocking me. My flintlock was already in my hand. I swirled the buggy right, hitting the other on that flank. The car turned, bullets shattered my rear headlights. I came into view seconds later, gun forward, I squeezed the trigger four times—arm, arm, chest, head. The biker fell. The car straightened, I jammed the accelerator again and sped forward. The other buggies were still on my tail. Some cars were ahead. I veered right, braked, sped up, left, left, right. I dodged incoming cars. Remington Lane had five lanes: two for cars moving ahead, and the other three for returning cars. I was in lane four, avoiding returning cars. This was my fastest route right now. If I took either of the other two lanes. Those cars would catch up to me easily. I turned to look at the situation at the back. The three black convertibles had pretty much followed in my footsteps. They trailed steadily behind me, weaving through cars too. Bullet shots followed me all the way too. My rear headlights were gone, the pickup tail—gone too, at least almost. I could hear the screeching noise as it's metal edges scraped the road. I'd have to take care of them one way or the other. But I couldn't stop now. Poppy town was at least a six hour and five minutes drive from my current position. If I increased speed, I could get there in less an hour time. But this guys?! I continued driving. My rear windshield crashed. Bullets cascaded the rear of my car. At this rate, I'd be dead before I got to Poppy town. There was another narrow road branching out of Remington Lane. It ran irregularly sideways and joined the main lane further ahead. If I could take care of them there, I'd arrive before dusk. I sped ahead, and veered into the narrow lane. A few abandoned resident buildings and crumbled shops scattered along the road. Whores and cut-purses frequented this road. Drivers going to Poppy town sometimes picked up whores from here towards Night Winks: a popular brothel just miles away from poppy town. I parked my car in front of an old apartment building and got out. They'd likely follow me. If my plan worked out, I'd find out if they needed or wanted to kill me—a plan I didn't have. I left my bag inside. I slipped my favorite gun into my jeans—a flintlock. The silenced Derringer pistol went into my jacket, tucked safely. I entered the building. The stairs were rickety and I had to be careful to avoid falling. I climbed to the second floor, and turned to the back of the building. The balcony rails ran around the building in each floors. I walked forward slowly to avoid getting noticed. The buggies were already parked beside my car. Outlaw looking men stepped out. They looked more a rag-tag bunch. I counted them. Two, three, five, eight—eight men. One rummaged through my bag, and took out the bread morsels. He started eating it. The fucker! A last man stepped out from the rear door. He wasn't dressed like the others. His jacket looked well tailored, matching pants, dark shades. He gave off this eerie feeling. A suit? That confirmed it. But, a suit with henchmen? I laughed. He walked into the building confidently. I didn't really recognize him, so maybe I didn't know him. He looked in his early twenties, blond hair too. I was at least three years older than him at twenty-seven. Two of the rag-tag guys stayed at the entrance. The others followed the man inside. They all wore black suits. I couldn't underestimate them. Eight of them should probably be a bit on the professional level. Whoever sent them wouldn't dare send amateurs to kill Ark Vloseif or whatever they needed me for. I set my usual smoke screen trap at the doorway. A motion sensor explosive was strapped behind the wall at the entrance of the second floor. As soon as he walked past it, it'd set off. I heard the explosive noise moments later, then shuffling of feet. One man was screaming already, another seemed to have been blown off the balcony. The footsteps got closer. I leaned against the left wall at the side of the building. I could see them running, checking in and out of the apartments—all except—Pop! I ducked luckily and rolled into view. The 'Suit' guy was behind me, his eyes frantic. The other four saw me and started running towards me. Three were already firing off shots. Another held a metal club. I smashed through a window into one of the apartments. A bullet followed me through. The door burst open, and the guy with the club entered. He approached me slowly, shifting his club from one hand to the other. I made a stab feint, he ducked backwards. Fucking amateurs! I lunged forward, kicked his arm very hard. He let go of the club and staggered into another of his companions. I took out my stiletto. The second guy fired at me, I ducked behind a wooden table. I kicked it towards him, he sidestepped to dodge. I'd already predicted this. I shot forward, stabbed his thighs three times in quick succession. He staggered back. I grabbed him by the collar and pushed him in front of me. Bullets hit him squarely four times—bullets meant for me. He fell, dead. I kicked at the gun from the other guy's hand. It flew out of the broken window. He threw a punch at me. I leaned to the side, caught his arm, twisted it, and twirled him over me, to the ground. A snap sounded. His arm was likely broken. I placed the gun muzzle to his carotid and shot. He'd die from blood loss. The other two were already making their way to the doorway. I could hear their running feet slapping against the concrete aisle. The 'Suit' guy was nowhere in sight which was better. I would avoid fighting this guys and make a quick escape. I ran forward, stepped on the railings and flipped. The two guys shot at me. I stretched both hands to grab what remained of the railings at the bottom, and flung myself lower, to the first floor. I landed steadily, and turned to look outside. My face became pale and I knew why. Four other black buggies had joined the ones outside. I could hear them climbing up the stairs. I already knew something was wrong. This men had pressured me into taking this road. I thought I could handle them quickly and set straight ahead to Poppy town. How wrong I was. This people were going to kill me, and probably save me the stress by taking my corpse to Poppy town. What really was happening to me and why now?