Remembering my old military training, where every day someone would tell me that pain is a choice, I push it to the back of my mind and carry on.
That being said, I’m not an idiot and I know I can’t maintain this pace for much longer. I have to catch Jones, and fast.
I can see him in front of me. He looks over his shoulder at me and nearly falls over a trashcan. He recovers quickly and ducks into an alley on the left, between two buildings.
“Marcus!” I shout. “Quit making me run, you asshole!”
I enter the alleyway after him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It’s a dead-end, what the…
Dammit, fire escape — just behind one of the large dumpsters against the right hand wall. I look up and see him climbing the metal stairs up to the roof.
Shit.
I take a deep breath and move back a couple of steps. I sprint toward the ladder that Jones has ever-so-kindly pulled up and jump, stretching as best I can under the circumstances and managing to just grab the bottom rung. The pain ripping through my torso right now is excruciating and difficult to ignore. I breathe rapidly to compose myself and after a few seconds start to pull myself up.
Once on the fire escape, I set off running, taking the stairs two and three at a time. I step down onto the roof of the building just in time to see Jones reach the other side and jump. Without breaking stride, I rush over and see he’s made it over the next alleyway and onto the roof of the adjacent building.
“You gotta be kidding me?” I say to myself, gasping for air.
Without thinking — because, let’s face it, if I stop and think about it, my brain would definitely tell me this is one of the dumbest things I’ve done in a long time — I run and jump…
Thankfully, the gap is deceptively small and I cover the distance easily enough, landing heavily on the neighboring roof. I stand up, wincing in pain, and see Jones ahead of me. He’s at the edge of the roof again, but he’s just standing there with his back to me. It takes me a moment, but I realize we’re on the edge of the block. There’s nowhere left to go.
He turns to face me, glancing over his shoulder quickly at the ledge, and subsequent drop, now behind him. We’re easily five or six stories up, so the drop would be fatal. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that… at least not before I get some answers.
I slow down as I approach him, catching my breath. I draw my gun and take aim one-handed.
“Finally,” I say. “Have you finished being an asshole? Me and you need to have a chat.”
“I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you,” he says, defensively.
“You don’t know that… You don’t even know who I am, or what I want. Don’t write off your ability to be helpful before we even start talking.”
Jones shrugs. “Okay, so who the hell are you, man?”
“I’m a concerned citizen who wants to know what Dark Rain is planning.”
I see the flash of concern on his face, but he seems set on pleading ignorance.
“I ain’t ever heard of no Dark Rain, man.”
“Bullshit. I saw your reaction when you laid eyes on Clara. Why did you run?”
He glances over his shoulder again. “I ain’t talking and you can’t make me,” he shouts. “They’re gonna hunt you down and slay you in the street for this!”
I fire once, above his head. “Enough,” I say. “If you’re gonna talk, stick to what I want to know, not what I could give two shits about.”
I step closer to him. Again, he looks over his shoulder at the street below, except this time he inches himself backward a tiny bit so he’s standing right on the edge.
He wouldn’t jump, surely?
“Don’t even think about it, Marcus,” I say.
I’m maybe ten feet away from him. I can see the defiant look in his eyes. His jaw is set and his breathing is rapid.
Shit… he’s going to jump, isn’t he?
Screw it.
I take a chance and shoot him in his left kneecap. He falls forward, screaming in pain and clutching his leg, which is pumping out blood on the ground around him.
The kneecap is one of the most painful places to get shot. I didn’t do it to make him suffer, though. I needed him to fall forward — if I’d shot him in the arm or shoulder, the impact would’ve sent him backward and over the edge. At least putting one in his knee meant he’d keel over and drop straight to the floor.
I walk over and crouch beside him, putting my gun to his head. Before I can speak, I hear a loud bang behind me. I spin around, aiming my gun, preparing for anything. I see Clara walking toward us. The door that leads to the roof must’ve hit the wall as she opened it.
“Hey,” I say, lowering my gun. “How’d you find us?”
“I was following you in the car,” she replies. “I could see you on the roof. When you reached the end of the block, I figured the chase was over so I came up through the building.”
She walks over to Jones, looking down at him quickly before turning to look at me.
“Can you interrogate anyone without shooting them?” she asks.
“Not usually,” I reply with a shrug.
“Maybe I should handle this?”
“Be my guest.”
I take a step back as Clara crouches down next to him.
“Marcus,” she says. “I need your help.”
He looks up at her; his teeth are clenched in agony. “Screw you, bitch!” he says. “You’re a traitor, and you’re gonna die!”
Seemingly unfazed, she places her hand on his throat. “Marcus, did you know about the Uranium?”
“Do you have any idea what they’re gonna do to you if they find you? Or to me, if I talk to you? Kiss my ass, traitor!”
Clara squeezes his throat. His eyes widen as he gasps for air, but he can’t breathe. After a few moments, she loosens her grip again. “Do you have any idea what I’m gonna do to you if you don’t talk?” she says to him. “I can make the agony you’re in right now last for days. Weeks, if necessary.”
He starts to cry… the poor bastard.
“Please — they’ll kill me!” he begs.
“Marcus, you’re dead anyway. You’re going to bleed out on this rooftop in a lot of pain. But if you help me, tell me something that we can use against them…” She pauses and I see a look on her face that reminds me of a nurse comforting a patient. “…you can rest knowing you’ve done the right thing. I can ease your suffering.”
I have to admit, she’s good. This is probably more effective, and quicker, than me shooting him and beating on him until he talks. I’m not going to admit that to her though.
“Please, Marcus,” she urges. “Did you know about the Uranium?”
“Yes,” he says, finally.
“What’s the big picture?”
“Once they’ve mined it, it was my job to transport it to their lab.”
“And then what?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Marcus, come on.” She squeezes slightly on his throat again.
“Please! I swear, I don’t know. I heard talk that they’re holding a scientist somewhere until the Uranium’s ready. They’re going to make them process it into weapons-grade material.”
Clara looks up at me and my jaw muscles tense. I’m guessing we share the same concerns right now.
“Marcus,” I say after a moment. “Where are they keeping this scientist?”
“I s-swear I don’t know. I just heard a couple of people talking.”
Clara stands and motions to me to follow her. We walk a few paces away from Jones, just out of earshot.