Page 4 of Aces and Eights by Harvey Smith
I looked around cautiously. There was no one on the patio, unless you count the potted plants that I had been planning as a farewell gift to Jennifer, the schoolteacher who lived in the apartment next to mine. I turned and looked down into the courtyard, four levels below. The pool lights gave the area a soft blue glaze. I saw nothing out of the ordinary, so I walked down the stairs. My parking-space neighbor had parked his car too close to mine and I had to squeeze myself in. I started the engine after hesitating for a couple of seconds. The thought of a bomb had crossed my mind briefly.
I backed out and drove toward the parking lot exit. I was getting as paranoid as Luke.
* * * * *
On the way to the bus station I watched for someone following me, but none of the other drivers seemed to have anything sneaky in mind. When I arrived, I parked the car and headed for the bus station's large front doors.
The station was not as busy as I had expected. A small group of young soldiers occupied a bench in one corner and there was a figure lying huddled on another bench, clutching a bottle wrapped in the customary paper bag.
I headed along the wall, looking for Luke's locker number. When I reached it, I dug the key out of my jeans and inserted it in the lock. As I turned the key, I was startled by what felt like a mild electrical shock.
When the locker door swung open, I looked in, then backed away blinking and rubbing my eyes. It had appeared, for an instant, that the locker contained an upraised snake, but the shadowy image vanished almost immediately. Within the locker, a light mist uncoiled itself and began dissipating. Confused, I disregarded it and reached inside for the bag that was there. It was about half a yard long and lighter than I had expected. About right for rolled up canvases, I thought. Bag in hand, I turned to leave.
Just then, three people entered the station, two men and a woman. They were dressed normally for the season�wearing jeans and light jackets�but there seemed to be purpose in the way they walked. The trio stalked its way toward me. Suddenly nervous, I turned and headed for the other end of the station, walking fast. I wanted to get outside, make my way around to the car and get the hell home. I passed through the doors and broke into a run.
Out in the night air, I immediately noticed a lone figure walking toward me from across the street. I rounded the corner of the building, hoping to make it to the car before anyone could reach me, but suddenly the man behind me was coming up quick. He seemed very fast.
I made it to the next corner, slowing down to round it, then sprinted for the car. I could hear the breathing of the man behind me. As I drew closer to the car, I could see that there was another man leaning against it. He smiled and stood up straight. In the same second, the station doors opened to my left and the three from inside emerged. "Damn," I said, more from fear than anger, though there was anger in it as well. Then, deus ex machine, a cab pulled to a stop on the section of road to my immediate right.
I dashed for the open taxi door, shoving the man who had apparently flagged it aside with a quick, "Sorry," before diving in. I slammed the door and yelled, "Drive," emphasizing my words with the pistol. The driver floored it just as my assailants reached the cab. I slapped the lock down and pointed the pistol threateningly toward the nearest window. One of my pursuers�the woman, I think�smashed the window in spite of the gun. The _expression on her face seemed a cross between determination and glee as her clenched fist plunged through the glass. Then, much to my relief, we were leaving them behind.
Looking back, I could see them standing in the road, pack-like and shadowed by the streetlights above and behind them. Turning back to the cabby, I gave him my address. I ran the fingers of my left hand through my hair, shaking away bits of broken glass. I started to wind down, to calm myself.
A shot broke out the rear windshield and whined away into the night. The taxi swerved and I could hear the driver cursing into his radio mike. Shaking away more glass, I turned to see my own car following us. I pointed the pistol out the hole that had previously been the rear windshield and squeezed the trigger.
Great, I thought. This was just what I needed. On top of everything else that had happened, my car was now involved in a chase and I was shooting at it. Suddenly, I wanted to laugh. Luke owed me one monster of an explanation.
They fired another shot and it followed the first. I fired back again, aiming for the driver. The windshield of my car imploded, but I had missed the man behind the wheel. They fired three more times in rapid succession and I heard one of the bullets slam home. I looked down, expecting blood, but there wasn't any.
It was then that the taxi swerved and jumped up onto the curb. I heard the cabby moan; he had taken the bullet intended for me. I dove over the seat and took the wheel, steering the limping cab into an alley. A wall of sparks flew around us as one side of the taxi scraped the brick wall. I reached over, pulled the emergency brake and was thrown onto the floor.
I struggled to get up and out of the cab, first picking up the fallen pistol. Within my sleeve, blood ran freely down my forearm. I glanced at the cab driver, but he was unconscious. From behind, I heard another shot and I saw that my pursuers were making their way into the mouth of the alley. Also at that moment, I heard the sound of wailing sirens coming from somewhere.
I left the taxi running. It did a good job of blocking the alley, so the people chasing me were forced to leave my car and pursue on foot. I ran to the end of the alley, turned right out onto the open street (praying for another taxi, but not really daring to expect one). A dog barked at me as I ran down the sidewalk and across the parking lot of a convenience store. A couple of people turned to watch me as I sprinted along and I realized that I still had the pistol in my hand. I tucked it inside the jacket and tried hard to look like a jogger.
There was a park ahead and I made my way toward it, vaulting a small chain link fence. Once I dropped Luke's precious bag, forcing me to stop and pick it up before continuing. My temples were pounding and it was getting harder to breathe; I knew that I could not keep running at full speed for long. Slowing a little, I passed an illuminated fountain. Then I was running on grass and there were trees ahead. I had made it to the park, at least.
When I had passed a number of trees, I ducked behind one and looked back in the direction from which I had come. I saw no signs of pursuit, so I decided to take a breather. Wishing that I had worn running shoes rather than hiking boots, I sat on the grass and panted. After a couple of minutes I felt a little better. I stood and stretched against the trunk of the tree, an oak. Looking around it once more, I saw nothing, then headed for the other side of the park. It was impossible not to give myself a mental kick for canceling my mobile phone contract in preparation for the move the Texas. Unable to come up with a better idea, I planned on finding the nearest phone and calling another taxi. I did not want to have to walk home unless I had to, as I was still several miles away from my apartment.