Escape Your Fate

Chapter 2
Escape Your Fate



Tuesday, 19th July
13:20
 

Bursting through the door of the roof fire escape, hot sun beat down upon him and its direct glare temporarily blinded him. Eyes shooting left and right from under the shade of his hand cupped over his brow, the screams from the commotion on the street below caused his body to tense in realization. Zipping the bag hanging from his left shoulder closed, the man covered in black clothing staggered across the graveled rooftop. Panting, he plastered his hand over the wound on his outer bicep.

The unmistakable clamor of the authorities shifting in panic was quickly met by the shouting of one of the bank robbers rang out below. He was clearly agitated, and from the stilled yelling of the law enforcement, they were trying not to provoke him.

Blood seeped through the digits constricting the top of his arm. When a wave of nausea skewed his vision, he knew he should hurry up and move but-

A crack of gunfire ricocheted through the maze of buildings below and screams of terror overlapped before the echo had even diminished. From that second, he knew it was going to go very bad, very quickly.

A rash of convoluted garble rose up to the skyline; police officers were relaying directions and trying to keep citizens safe. Meanwhle, reporters were still putting their lives on the line by trying to get a better shot of the aggravated scene than their competing stations. Another wave of cries escaped into the atmosphere, this time sounding a little more relieved than shocked. Unfortunately, it was short-lived.

The jarring spray of a semi automatic machine gun spat and the chaos escalated to a new level. As if if was a slap in the face by the universe, a sound of a chopper whirred overhead. Unable to see the direction from which it was approaching, the man on the roof of the bank endeavoured to keep his heart from breaking out of his rib cage.

Trying to ignore the familiar tingle and loss of warmth spreading up from the fingertips of his injured arm, the escapee drew in a lungful of air stale with city fumes. Fixing his eyes on the five foot ledge which ran the entirety of the perimeter, he exhaled through his mouth. Repeating the same action of sucking in a breath and huffing it out sharply several times, he throbbed on the spot for a brief moment.

Putting out as much force as he could, the culprit ran for the edge of the building. Tearing up grit with each stomp of his boots, the man panted as another burst of adrenaline shot through his system. His right boot hit the ledge and he pushed off before he could change his mind. Where there was once gravel under his feet, there was now only thin air and the view of the roof of another building some five yards away. Treading air and flailing his arms, the man dowsed in black soared across the alleyway. Hitting the roof on the other side with a grunt, he rolled until a protruding air conditioning vent stopped his momentum. Reeling from the impact, the escapee grasped to retain his senses and clambered to his feet. Teetering left and right as his equilibrium readjusted, the criminal limped across the grit floor of the drastically smaller building. Hiding in the shade of the electrical shed at the far end of the roof, he tore the ski mask off his head. Wiping the sweat from his face and the back of his neck with it, his hands shook. Yanking the zipper of the oversized hoodie down and shrugging it off his right arm, the man grimaced as it came to remove the other arm.

Peeling the black cloth from the bullet wound which continued to ooze sanguine, the criminal grit his teeth and got it over with in one sharp pull. Hissing a spew of curses, he kicked his leg out and clenched his stomach muscles at the sting which had turned into a burning throb taking over his humerus. Stuffing both articles inside the bag and over the top of his weapons and the stacks of cash, he zipped up the case and prepared himself to carry on.

Recalling the general layout of the area he and his group had been tasked to learn before the job transpired, the injured male walked over to the ledge where a set of metal handle bars peeked up. Peering down onto the dank side street overshadowed by towering buildings, blue eyes made a note of the fact there was nobody about before crawling around. Scaling down the rusted ladders the fourth floor balcony. As soon as he had stepped foot onto the rusted grating, the loose support brackets moaned. Holding his hand out for balance when his platform jerked in threat, the man pushed the extending ladder down. Except, it didn’t budge. The frame creaked louder when a a dropping jolt came from his left.

Hearing sirens wail, a flash of S.W.A.T vans whizzed past the entrance to the alleyway. Having no time to waste, the man surmised that he had no other option but to make a jump for it. Climbing over the barrier, he was part way through crouching down ready to let go when a beat up Austin Mini rounded the corner.

Head snapping to attention, the criminal felt his heart leap into his throat as the car teetered while the driver read from a map over the steering wheel. Panic racking him, the injured male tried to pull himself back up onto the platform when the clank of a bolt coming lose redirected his attention again. The sickening sound of metal scraping against brick forced a cold sweat upon him and before he could let go and get clear, the joist disconnected fully. Ripping from the wall, the 1950’s shelf crashed onto the concrete. Startled by the horrendous clatter, the driver swerved in the nick of time. Narrowly missing the escapee who had rolled out of the way of the collapsed metal, the Austin careened into the side of the dumpster in front of the mess.

The driver pushed open his door and rushed out to gauge the damage. His eyes were fixed on the broken balcony, but his attention was quickly snatched by a groan at his feet. Eyes widening upon looking down, the driver’s jaw slackened at the bloodied male crawling to his hands and knees.

Shoulders raising and stance spreading in shock, the tale male with sharp features and facial stubble gasped at the state. “Are you okay?” A heavy French accent passed thin lips as he reached out to assist the victim of the accident.

Swatting the helping hand away, the escapee winced when a bone shaking pulse shot up his left arm and through his clavicle. “Peachy, man. I only nearly cracked my gourd open.” Grumbling a Central California droll, the victim staggered to his feet with his holdall in his right hand. Supporting his hip on the left corner of the dented Austin Mini, the much shorter male dropped his bag on the hood and wiped his face with the back of his wrist.

Inspecting the stranger with a worried eye, the driver meekly gestured to his own forehead.“You’re head is bleeding.” Fretting, unsure of whether he had caused any of the injuries, the foreigner held his hands up as not to aggravate the stocky man. “In fact, I think you’re bleeding from just about everywhere. Let me take you to the hospital.”

In the next few seconds - two chefs yelling in their native tongue emerged through the back door of the Chinese restaurant on the other side of the alleyway, a resident from the apartment above screamed obscenities about the noise, and the siren of a police car grew louder - the escalating situation was turned on its head.

Ragging the zip of his holdall open, the shorter man aimed a handgun at the driver. “Get in the car.”

The taller male held his hands up slowly. “You don’t need to point that at me-”

“I said get in the fuckin' car!” The gunman snapped and jabbed the tip of the pistol towards the driver’s side.

Not wanting to get caught in the crossfire, the two chef’s ran back inside and slammed the heavy duty metal door shut behind them. The angry neighbour brought their head back inside the window, but continued their obnoxious screeching. The Frenchman, however, neither yelled, not ran. He kept his hands up and slowly climbed inside the small vehicle.

“Put your hands on the steering wheel and start the engine.” The gunman gestured with his weapon as he slipped his head through the strap of his bag, keeping his eyes on the foreigner all the while. Taking a few unstable steps back, the mousy brunette trained his gun on the driver. “Reverse enough for me to get in the passenger side. If you try to run me over, I’ll shoot you; if you try to escape, I’ll shoot you.” Sniffling his nose clear of coagulating blood and spitting it on the floor, he warned the stranger.

Doing as he was instructed, the Frenchman reversed the heap of scrap from the metal dumpster and opened the passenger door. Straightening up, the injured male slid along the side of the machine and into the empty seat [beside the driver.

Propping the clip of his gun on his left forearm, the victim’s head fell back onto the itchy rest at the nape of his neck. Fighting against his consciousness, the shorter male fixed his eyes on the driver’s profile. “Get me out of this city.” The hard tone he had been initially met with had softened to little above a mumble.

Glancing to the battered figure beside him, the foreigner blindly pushed the maps between the gap in the two seats. Continuing to reverse down the cluttered alley at a safe speed, the Frenchman picked up of water from the cup-holder behind the hand-brake. Holding it up a little, he spoke. “You look really bad. You should drink something.”

Weighed down by a body of lead, the passenger had sunk into a ghastly sallow. Unable to lift his head or limbs, he kept his aim on the driver’s groin.

“Do you have to point it there?” The taller male’s brow twitched as an uncomfortable expression morphed his sharp features.

Knowing it was stupid to admit he didn’t have the strength to lift his arm and shoot the man in the neck if it came down to a disagreement, he just hummed. “If I let off a shot, you’d be dead in less than a minute.”

Colour draining from his face, the driver’s brows raised and his mouth fell open. “Please put the safety on . We’re in New York; one bump in the road and we’ll both end up in a ball of flames.”


 

[Next time on The Screwball Seven]
 

The thunderous knocking did not stop. In fact, it got worse. Before either of the pair could make a run for it, two burly men burst through the flimsy motel door. Charging in like they owned the place, one went about pushing open the doors to the side rooms. The second beast waited in what was supposed to pass as a foyer.

“Tut, tut, tut…” A third man, much smaller than the two apes, sauntered into the motel room. Navy silk suit glinting in the sunlight shining on his right side, the gangly intruder looked to taller of the two men. “Roman,” Sniffling sharply, the suited interruption rubbed the underneath of his nose as he looked around. “I never took you for such a cheapskate.”

Catching the familiar twitch, the guest of the addressed held his hands out. “He pays top dollar for China.”

The suited male raised his brow as he inspected the man he was after. “Are you trying to be smart, Roman?” He stepped forward and placed his hand on the back of the neck of the addressed.

The stranger opened his opened his mouth and stepped into the newcomer’s personal space. “I’m jus’ sa-”
 

Updated: 7th August 2016 - 04:18