Page 173 of Callan

This is much worse than I thought.

Sneaking away behind a row of unmoving cars, I stay out of their sight for as long as I can, trying to find a secondary street and get lost.

“Where is she?”

Looking up and down the sidewalks, I realize I can't fool these brutes.

If I make a run for my building, they’re going to catch me or shoot me, whichever is more convenient, before I reach the next block.

Maybe this is not the best moment to think about it, but I wholeheartedly resent the idea of going to that park in the first place and getting melancholic about stuff I can’t bring back.

I crawl on my hands and knees, checking the men’s sleek shoes visible behind the cars.

“She’s here. Don’t worry,” a fourth voice says, a calmer one. “She’s not as stupid as she looks,” he says, a weird brand of humor in his voice.

Normally, I’d take offense at that. But now, given the precarious situation, I’ll let it slide.

“If you see her, shoot her,” the same voice says, and I gather he’s their boss.

“He won’t like it,” a man says, referring to someone who’s not here with them.

“He didn’t say he wanted her alive. He wants to make a point. Her corpse would do. Point made.”

They laugh like they’re not talking about me. A human being, still very much alive.

Who the fuck are these people? And what is wrong with them? What have I done to them?

And don’t they know I’m here, listening to them?

They probably do, and they purposefully push that garbage out to intimidate me.

I move away from them, still hiding between the cars, before reaching the end of the block.

Having no choice, I push up and look around.

They’re casually walking in the middle of the road without a worry in the world, convinced that they can get me.

To be fair, not much can stop them.

The street is deserted.

Whoever is home is also probably in front of the TV, snacking and drinking. I doubt anyone can hear me.

My building looms in the distance, but it’s not close enough to risk sprinting in that direction.

I feel like I’m running out of options. And I sure am.

If I move to the building next to me, they will see me.

If I run away, they will catch me. That’s why they seem so calm.

They knew I’d have no way of getting away, which makes me think they know where I live.

But Callan said I’d be protected.

Well, he probably didn’t think I’d be walking around the neighborhood and practically falling into these people’s hands.

I need a diversion to buy some time, so lacking a real sense of how dangerous this really is, I straighten up and turn around to face them.

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