"What?"
"My bike is down in that alleyway," I said, looking as another car roared by. I knew what the GDs were doing. Sending out cars first, they'd set up a perimeter around their territory, while behind them would be chasers on motorcycles and slower cars who would criss cross the streets until they had their prey. I'd heard about it too many times.
"My car is six blocks that way," the other man said, pointing. "If we can get there, we can get out of here."
"Your car is too far outside GD turf. They're sweeping now, and we can't stay up on rooftop the whole way. Unless you have a way to cross a major street without touching the ground," I said. "Can you ride on the back?"
"You mean on your cycle?" the other man asked. "How big is it? Five hundred, six hundred cc?"
"It's electric," I replied back. He looked at me incredulously, and I nodded. "Great for stealth. Listen, I'm serious, can you hold on well enough so we can get the hell out of here? We get to street level, I bust us through the GD line on my cycle. If they pursue, we high tail it out of Filmore, my bike's still got another forty miles of high speed juice in the battery. If they don't, I drop you at your car, and if I catch you again doing anything that stupid, I shoot you myself."
The other man looked like he was about to argue, but shut his mouth and nodded. "We can discuss that later," he said, reaching for the fire escape. He scrambled down the ladder, with me right on his heels.
Reaching my bike, I was happy to find that it was still undisturbed. Yanking the cover off, I grabbed my helmet and passed it to the man. "You're on back, they'll be shooting at you once we bust through," I said. "It's not bulletproof, but it's better than nothing."
He grabbed my helmet and jammed it on his head over top of his balaclava, and snapped the eyeshield down. "Let's go."
"Hold on tight," I said as he mounted the bike behind me. "This thing doesn't accelerate like a normal bike. It can jump like a bat out of hell."
The other man squeezed tight and I slammed my bike into action, whipping around the corner already going more than thirty miles an hour. The advantages of a motorcycle are enhanced with my bike, in that I'm quick as a flash, and before I even reached the next corner, I was already going sixty five. Even better, being nearly silent meant I wasn't announcing my presence.
Unfortunately for us, the GD barricade was quick and it was tight. Less than thirty seconds after taking off, I saw the first GD car blocking the road, a giant early eighties Chevy sedan that was roughly the size of an elephant. The bangers inside were strapped and ready, and in the instant I had to look, I saw two shotguns and a Uzi.
Immediately, I started swerving side to side, my motor whining in protest as I twisted the accelerator even harder. The lead GD saw us and fired a round, which I avoided easily, but that was when things went to shit.
The last GD, the one with the Uzi, decided the best way to stop us was to spray the entire street from side to side. I heard a long, ripping sound, kind of like a denim tearing, and suddenly the man behind me groaned loudly. Rounding the corner, I abandoned my idea of getting him to his car and took off, knowing I could lose pursuit in the maze of streets between Filmore Heights and Mount Zion.
What followed was some of the tensest riding I've ever done. My battery, which should have been good for forty miles, started to drain at an alarming rate, which told me that something had gotten hit, either my battery or somewhere in the system, creating a short that was draining juice too quickly. I was just happy that nothing mechanical was hit, and pressed my bike as fast as I could.
"Hold on dude," I yelled over my shoulder as we passed into a safe area. I kept my throttle maxed until I felt him start to slip behind me. Coming to a screeching halt, I grabbed his arms and pulled them tight.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my phone and hit the speed dial for Sophie. "Hello?"
"I've got the amateur with me. He's been shot, I don't know where."
"Where are you?"
"Warehouse district. I'm maybe five minutes from MJT HQ."
"Is he conscious?"
"Non-sensical," I replied. He sagged again, and I pulled his arms tight. "I need your help."
"Get home, ASAP. I'll have the surgical kit ready in the bell tower. We have plasma here."
"Roger," I replied, closing the line and thinking quickly.