Page 79 of The Deeper Game
How long I could keep the pile between us? A pretty long time, I was thinking.
I heard him slow on the other side, and then stop, and then he headed the other way.
I mirrored his movements. As long as the pile was between us, I was safe.
After a while of chasing around, I picked up a large rock and tossed it clear over the pile at him. “An asshole loser A/V guy! With stupid hair!”
Not exactly productive, but what did I have to lose?
He moved clockwise, trying to come after me more stealthily, but I could hear him. If I kept it up long enough, my guys could get to me. It could be three hours, maybe four or five until they discovered the message. Could I make it?
Damn right!
We chased around back and forth. I felt like maybe an hour passed, though maybe it was ten minutes. I thought about alternate plans—climbing to the top, or burying myself as a way to hide, but nothing seemed as effective as keeping a giant motherfucking pile of stones between us.
Then there came a silence that went on a little too long. I waited until I caught a flash of green out the corner of my eye.
Crap!
I bolted away; a nearby spray of stones told me that his shot just missed me.
He’d taken off his shoes. We were now at the same stealth level.
It got harder to keep the pile between us after that. He’d chase around and just appear and I’d have to take off, but sometimes he’d change directions and come at me the other way. He could never quite catch me, but I was feeling tired and a little freaked out. Dusk was falling, too, which made it harder to see him.
It was when I was on the side of the pile that was nearest to his truck that I got the idea to go back there. It was a lot of tundra to cross, but the rock pile strategy felt less promising, now.
I ran for it.
I heard another shot, but I kept going.
Zeus had once told me that it was nearly impossible to hit a target while you were running, which I’m sure he was.
Miraculously, I got to the truck and found the door open. I went in and looked around. Where were my guns? I could hear him coming. With shaking hands, I searched under the seats, yanked open the glove compartment.
What had he done with my guns? He couldn’t be carrying them all!
He was nearing. I jumped out and shut the door, hiding behind the truck just as I’d hid behind the rock pile.
“Lose something?” he asked from the other side, voice disturbingly close.
I crouched there on the other side of the door, pulse racing. Well, fuck it. As long as I could keep the vehicle between us, I was safe. I just had to survive for the next minute, and then the minute after that.
“I threw them into the grass,” he said. “Over behind the pole.”
I looked out at the weedy patch at the base of a utility pole at the edge of the lot, about ten parking spaces away. I caught the glint of metal, but it would be suicide to go for it.
“You know you can’t get away,” he said in his creep voice.
“Maybe not, but I can outlast you.”
“Actually, you can’t. This isn’t the rock pile, honey. All I have to do is jump up on the hood.”
“I’ll crawl under then,” I said, shaking deep down.
“And I’ll jump down and shoot you,” he said.
Wildly, I thought this scenario through. Yeah, he could do that.
