Chapter 5
Haley
My lungs burn and my arms and legs pump quickly. The graffiti on the concrete walls of the freeway viaduct blend into a colored blur. I’m out of shape. Six months ago, I could have outrun them, but not now. Not today. My feet smack against the blacktop and the sound echoes in the tunnel. The stench of mold and decay fills my nose.
There’s a splash as someone stomps into a puddle, followed by the sound of more shoes against the street. My breath comes out in gasps and I will my muscles to move faster.
Heat rises off my body and into the cold night and my nose begins to run. I don’t want them to hurt me, and the thought of a man’s hand colliding with my body causes my heart to clench. My fist tightens around Dad’s medication. I don’t want to lose it. The answer is to be faster, but, if they catch me, I’ll be left with no other choice than to fight.
Their footsteps ring closer in my ears and my old training floods into my brain. I need to turn, face them and form a defensive stance. I can’t be dragged to the ground by my hair.
Lights from behind create a beacon of hope. My pursuers’ footfalls continue in their hunt but fall off near the walls of the tunnel, out of sight of the approaching car. I put on a burst of speed. Two more blocks and I’ll be inside. Safe from this.
Brakes squeal and a door snaps open. Voices. Shouting. The sound of a fist smacking into flesh. Continuing, I peek over my shoulder and air slams out of me when I notice the Escalade.
No.
Please, God, no.
My body rocks forward as my feet become concrete. It’s the guy from the shopping plaza. He’s fighting them. Three shadows spar against the headlights; a hellish dogfight of arms, fists, legs, grunts and growls. They’re all the same height, but I know which one’s him. He’s thicker. More muscular. He’s a scrapper, but he’s going to lose.
Two against one.
My chest rises and falls and I glance down the street, toward my uncle’s house, toward relative safety. I’m minutes away from curfew, I’ve got my father’s prescription in my grasp, but leaving a guy behind—it’s not how I was raised.
Knowing this has the potential to end extremely badly for me, I switch directions to join the fight.