Ethan laughed. “Certainly not waiting for that security guard to figure out the police won’t be coming to pick you up any time soon. They have their own problems, and besides, no one’s told them what happened yet.”
Wyatt looked at the guard who was busy arguing with the man who pushed the woman. Ethan was right. No one knew what he’d done here. If he got away, maybe they would never know. How would they even identify him? Without power, any cameras that might have been able to record what happened didn’t work anymore. And good luck getting someone to identify him in all this craziness. He could always shave his beard off, too.
“Don’t do that,” Ethan said.
Wyatt blinked at his friend. “Do what?”
“Shave your beard off. It gives you a noble visage.”
“How did you know what I was thinking?” Wyatt said, alarmed.
Again, Ethan shrugged and Wyatt found the gesture annoying. “I don’t have an answer for you on that, either,” Ethan said. “But, hey, don’t worry about me right now. You’re going to miss your chance.”
“Chance to what?”
“Escape,” Ethan nodded to the guard.
Wyatt looked to see the large guard wrestling around the ground with the man he’d been arguing with. And then the woman who’d been pushed jumped on the both of them. People shifted along the sidewalk trying to get out of the way.
“Time is wasting, buddy,” Ethan said. “Can’t let chance do all the work for ya.”
Wyatt frowned at his dead friend’s obtuse words then shifted around. With an effort, he turned his body and fell back onto the seat. He placed both of his frayed runners against the passenger side window.
“What are you doing?” Ethan said, curious.
“I’m breaking out!” Wyatt said, and kicked at the window. Nothing happened, so he did it again with both feet. The window held fast, so he kept hammering at it.
Ethan sighed. “Did you check to see if the door was locked?”
Wyatt paused in his assault. “Uh…” He shifted back up into a sitting position and glanced at the guard. The big man was still rolling around the sidewalk with both assailants.
Wyatt checked the door. It was unlocked. “Huh,” he said as he shifted around so his hands could reach the door latch. “Why’d he do that?”
“You told him he’d let you go. Maybe that’s why.”
Wyatt eyed Ethan with suspicion. Ol’Eth was really full of it today, but he wouldn’t argue with him. Whether intentional or not, the door was unlocked.
Carefully, he pulled at the latch and the door popped open. Wyatt held on tight so it wouldn’t swing out and hit the car next to them.
The doctor came out of the clinic and started yelling at the guard. The guard paid him no mind and managed to get the woman pinned to the ground so he could put a set of plastic restraints on her. The other man sat propped up against the window, panting heavily, clutching his chest.
“Give it three seconds,” Ethan said.
With the guard ignoring him, the doctor turned his attention to the truck and looked at Wyatt.
Wyatt froze and offered a dead eyed glare in return. He hoped the doctor didn’t notice the door ajar in the growing darkness.
The doctor opened his mouth and pointed in Wyatt’s direction.
Suddenly, the man clutching his chest cried out.
The doctor quickly turned his attention to the man and knelt next to him. He shouted for the nurse.
“Now would be good,” Ethan said with a wide smile.
Wyatt eased the door open behind him and slowly slid out, keeping an eye on the confusion at the front of the truck. The truck’s overhead light didn’t turn on, for which he was grateful.
Placing one foot at a time onto the asphalt, Wyatt stood. The guard’s back was turned, hunched over his new prisoner. The doctor and nurse performed CPR on the ailing man.
Concerned that trying to close the door would draw attention, Wyatt walked slowly backwards down the length of the truck. In seconds he’d be out of sight and on his way.
Suddenly, Ethan leaned out of the open door and grinned at Wyatt. “Everything can’t be easy!” He grabbed the door handle and slammed it shut.
The guard, who had stood up, whirled around. “Hey! Stop!”
Wyatt spun around and ran out past the truck and turned right. He raced down the length of the parking lot hoping the cluster of people and cars would slow any pursuers.
His heart thudded in his chest and the restraints pinched deeper into his flesh with his frantic movements. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed the guard in hot pursuit. For such a big man, he was fast.
But Wyatt had the advantage. The sun had finally vanished behind the buildings. No street lights were turned on. In fact, there were no lights whatsoever. If it wasn’t for the bright rash of stars across the sky, Wyatt wouldn’t have been able to see a thing.
There was shouting behind him, but he didn’t look. His concentration was fully on navigating the encroaching blackness. He swung around the strip mall, past more parked cars and along the side of the building. There were no lights here, either.
Wyatt slowed, unable to make out many details and not wanting to fall. His eyes needed to get used to the night.
A huffing and puffing made him look back.
The guard rounded the corner of the building. His large form was bulbous in the dark.
“Stop!” the big man shouted.
Wyatt had to give him credit, but increased his speed. He couldn’t be caught. The guard would make sure another escape didn’t happen. Besides, Wyatt had a mysterious job to do which probably did not entail being imprisoned.
He raced down the side of the building, maneuvering around vehicles which had stalled in the middle of the lane.
Wyatt felt invigorated. The last time he was chased had been years ago. The memory of a forest canopy winking with sunlight above played through his head.
Back then his pursuers were just as dogged as the security guard. Only, death was their end game. Gunshots occasionally punctuated the air, breaking the monotony of his footfalls through the thick brush.
“Hunter One, do you copy, over?” someone said in his ear.
The voice sounded like Ethan’s, but distorted. Taking a hand off his rifle, Wyatt tapped his ear mic. “I’m moving away from point, north by north-east,” he said.
Static was the only answer. Wyatt raced down a rocky rise. In the distance, he heard a stream. Was that the one on the map? He couldn’t be sure. The topography was as varied as it was beautiful.
He angled toward the sound of the running water. It might give him a proper location to find his pickup.
As he ducked under a low hanging branch, its bark shattered with a bullet’s impact.
“Shit,” he said, and tried to pick up the pace. They were close. Too close. Capture was not a good idea with these people. Death would be long in its arrival and would be most welcome when it did.
“Cancel pick up,” the static voice said. “No go. New pick up to be determined.”
Fear washed over Wyatt. No pick up? Then what was he running to?
Suddenly a figure appeared deep within the trees to his right. It turned to aim a weapon at him.
With no time to think, Wyatt quickly raised his rifle and let out a short burst.
The figure fell back, his gun pinwheeling away.
Behind him, shouts, this time much closer than before. They got a lock on his position.
For a moment he considered stopping and returning fire from cover. But the risk of being wounded and captured was too great.
“They peel the skin off you,” Ethan said through the static in his ear. “You know that. You’ve seen it.”
“Shut up,” Wyatt said, huffing along. A pain stung his arms. He risked glancing down to find both his wrists were bleeding. What the hell? Did he get hit?