I certainly do this time. It's tantalizing.
She uses her arm to propel herself over a white fence. I follow suit, landing in the gravel on the opposite side. She's climbing over the next fence. I'm at her just as she clears it. She drops heavy. I land on my haunches on cement, right behind her.
Syd is already down the carport. I dive after her. All the agony of the last hours falls off as I run. Just me and the hum again. As long as I catch Syd, it will let me go.
And I will catch Syd.
I have to.
The residential street is empty. Few people collect the morning newspaper anymore. She cuts across another empty street, heading right, then rounds the corner.
She's slowing. I am not.
I'm fuckin' golden.
She turns left and crosses in front of an apartment complex. A few people are standing around in the common area, smoking and talking. They don't even glance up as she races by, and I charge right after.
Way to be observant, assholes.
She catches her second wind and skids around the corner. The bottom of my jacket beats against the back of my legs as I pursue her across a three way intersection. Up ahead, a parking lot with a few vendor stands and a couple of patio tables and a handful of people.
Syd barrels through, shoving chairs behind her as she goes. I leave overturned tables and broken umbrellas in my wake. I think someone shouts at us.
I just hear humming. Pleasant, happy humming.
Syd is struggling to get over another fence. I gain on her. She's shaking, her breathing sharp, but she scrambles over. I follow after and drop right behind. My fist grabs the back of her shirt.
She throws an elbow and clenches her jaw as she pulls away. I go down, clutching my stomach. Then my head snaps up. She's already across the yard and over the wooden fence. My eyes narrow.
We can do this as long as she wants.
I bolt after her. The fence digs up my hands as I scramble over. Down a side yard and into the street. Syd turns the corner into a long alley. Dirt kicks up as I chase after.
Her silhouette is stunning. She's the pretty girl from a horror movie. No one wants her to die. But she has to. The story can't move forward without it.
The alley opens onto a boulevard. Syd weaves through the traffic without slowing. I lunge forward. Cars slam on their brakes, swerve, barely recover from a pile up. I reach the median as she reaches the other side.
A narrow strip connects two parking lots. She heads around the back. Another fence. She halts for a second, hesitating. She doesn't look back at me, but I can see her body tensing as I gain on her. Then she's off, scrambling onto the dumpster and over the fence.
I take the easy route—up and over—and lean low to charge her. All I have to do is knock her off her feet. As soon as she's down, it's over.
She takes a sharp turn into another alley.
She doesn't have anywhere to go, I realize. Her hide out is in Santa Fe. She is just running, trying to stay ahead of me. Yet she's so damn stoic about the whole thing. Her fear obvious in the gasping and trembling, but she's battling it down.
The school girl has got some grit. But I'm the monster here.
We pass by trash cans, discarded furniture, piles of rocks. We exit into a road, spring for the next alley. My boots splash through shallow puddles.
The alley opens into a lot. Syd dives around the parked cars, like she thinks she's going to lose me.
Good run, but she's not getting away.
She steals a glance. Her eyes spark. She had no idea just how close I am. She's barely out of my reach. A few more minutes.
We clear another street, into another parking lot, and over another wooden fence. My soles crunch the gravel right behind her. The ground slopes, and I brace for balance as I skid to the bottom.
The lot is piled with rusted cars, towers of plastic crates, and piles of junk I can't even discern. Metal clatters as we barrel past. A landslide of garbage breaks free. I stomp through it. Syd's over the next fence.
The other side is another yard. I expect Syd to do her thing and swing over the next fence. Instead, she turns and heads for the back door.
I halt. Maybe she did have a destination in mind.
I charge for the door, yank it open, and dart inside after her. My soles slip on the tile, leaving behind mud and a trail of trash. A woman is yelling in the other room.
A door slams. I barrel into a living room. A woman comes at me, swinging a baseball bat. I don't know if I duck in some move channeling Bruce Lee or if she's just a lousy batter.
I'm out the front door before she hits a home run. Syd and I are back on the streets.
The chase never goes on this long in the movies, dammit. But Lara Croft here is still running for her life. Literally.
She dives through a crosswalk despite the oncoming traffic. The city has come alive during our morning run. Someone is going to be coherent enough to realize there is no camera crew. Someone is going to call the police. Then things will get messy.