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My apartment is sixteen blocks away, and I walked all the way here, but I don’t plan on going home yet. I’m headed for the police station where I’m going to ditch the recorder on the hood of one of their cruisers along with a note.
I’d shut my phone off to avoid the chance of it giving me away during the exchange, so now I power it back on, not surprised when I see no missed calls, but disappointed nonetheless. I don’t know what I expect from my father. I went to the appointment he set, switched medications, and am now prepared to deal with the side effects, which so far appear to be weird dizzy spells and stomach cramps. What do I want for that, agood job? AnI’m proud of you? Pathetic.
I slide my phone into my back pocket then cross my arms over my chest as I make my way to the police station. It’s even farther away than my apartment, so I consider hitchhiking there, but only a handful of cars pass in a ten-minute period.
I prepare to turn to move on to a busy street when headlights shine behind me. Looking back over my shoulder, my hand twitches, ready to lift to ask for a ride, but something stops me. The car crawls along the vacant road while the hairs raise on the back of my neck.
Something feels off.
I turn forward and shove my hands in my hoodie pocket, feeling the camcorder as I walk faster on the sidewalk.
I count to five, waiting for the car to pass, but it doesn’t. It won’t.
They found me.
Theyknow.
How?
I look over my shoulder at the car and consider throwing the camcorder at it, but that must be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. It’s only an admission of guilt. They’d never let me go.
Facing forward, I speed walk, quick puffs of air fogging around me as I dart my eyes around. Any second, I expect the car to pull up beside me, the back door to open and a man in a black ski mask to pull me inside. Or maybe they won’t even bother with the ski mask because I’ll be dead before the night’s over.
A whine whistles through my teeth as I break out in a run, no longer able to help myself. The car roars behind me, and I look over my shoulder in a panic at it before whipping my head in time to spot a person in all black appearing around the corner up ahead. He’s facing away from me, waiting for the crosswalk.
“Help!” I yell for him, praying the criminals won’t kill me in front of a witness. “Please, help me!”
When he turns, I catch Alik’s familiar features illuminated by the stoplight. His hands are tucked casually in the pockets of his jacket, and his expression is as neutral as if I’d just asked him for a piece of gum.
Alik?
Alik!
“Alik,” I cry, stumbling to a stop when I reach him. I cling myself to his back to use him as a shield. It’s selfish, I know. I’m not proud of it. But for now it works because the car peels through a green light and drives away.
“Oh, thank God.” A tremble runs over my arms, but I don’t let relief overtake me. They’re gone for now, but they’ll be back. And thanks to Creeper, they know who I am and where I live.
What if Dad was right? What if this was a terrible idea?
Fuck!
“Olive?” Alik pries me off his back and pulls me around to face him. “What’s going on?”
I lift a shaky finger in the direction the car went. “I’m in trouble. Someone… Some people… I…”
How do I explain this to him?
I stare at his blank expression. He doesn’t even appear concerned for my safety. I probably just look insane to him.
I shake my head. “I just have to get out of here.”
Biting my lip, I turn the corner Alik came from, prepared to hide out in a parking garage or something until the police come, but when Alik takes my hand, I whirl toward him.
I almost yank my hand away. Not because his grip hurts or he’s in any way rough, but because the electricity it excites in my body is startling.
My life is in danger. Any minute that car could come back, a gun could point out the window, and bullets could spray both our bodies, so it is absolutely ridiculous for me to think about anything else right now.
But for the briefest seconds while his hand holds mine, it’s all I can think about. How strong it feels. How sure of himself he looks. If he told me we should stand in this spot, out in the open until the car comes back, I’d be stupid enough to listen as long as he was touching me with that hand.
