Rabbits(114)

At that moment, a car pulled into the parking lot, headlights slicing through the dark, and I caught a flash of something shining in the man’s hand.

It looked like a gun of some kind, or maybe a Taser.

I started walking away. Fast.

After a few seconds, I turned and risked a look behind me. The man in the wool suit was following, perfectly matching my speed.

I started lightly jogging up the alley toward the street, doing my best to look casual, like I was just a little late for a nice dinner with friends.

The man started jogging behind me. He had a slight hitch in his gait, just enough to make him appear a little bit crooked as he ran.

It made him even more menacing.

I sped up.

I felt like if I could just make it out of the alley, I’d be okay. There would be cars on the street, probably some people out walking. There’s no way the man would risk attacking me in such a public setting.

I started to run faster, and I heard the man behind me do the same.

I looked back, and saw him sprinting toward me, loping slightly as he ran, like some kind of comic book villain.

He was moving too fast, I thought, as he suddenly lunged forward, grabbing at my shoulders, his fingers raking my neck and back. At that point, fight-or-flight adrenaline kicked in, and I was able to hit another gear. My lungs burned as I pushed my knees and arms up and forward in a burst of desperate kinetic synchronicity.

After a couple of seconds that felt like minutes, I twisted my head back to check on the man. He was too far behind.

I was going to make it.

About ten yards from the street, as I started to slow down in order to ensure I didn’t lose my balance and tumble into the middle of the road, the cyclist from earlier burst into the alley directly in front of me, effectively blocking my way.

I swerved to the left and somehow managed to maneuver myself between two large recycling containers, jump a low gate, and keep my balance as I ran along the narrow pathway between two matching gray brick–and-glass apartment buildings.

I was in the zone now, running for my life.

I had no idea where either of my pursuers was at this point.

I felt nothing but the need to escape.



* * *



—

I didn’t stop running until my legs gave out and I stumbled out of a back alley, moving so fast that the front of my body ended up way over my knees, and I slid across the pavement headfirst into a parked car. My body was so full of adrenaline that I didn’t feel a thing. I stood up and took a quick look around. I was miles from where I’d encountered the man in the wool suit. No sign of him or the cyclist.

I relaxed a little and took a longer look at my surroundings.

I was standing in the middle of a familiar street.

Without realizing it, I’d run pretty much straight over to Baron’s place.

I had no idea if the people who’d been following me were still around. I needed to get out of sight as soon as possible.



* * *



—

I made my way along the narrow corridor between Baron’s building and the apartment complex next door, past the plastic chairs and the rest of the familiar junk. Just like the last time I’d been there, Baron’s living room window was cracked open.

I took a cursory look around to make sure nobody was watching, and then I pushed opened the window, crawled through, and tumbled inside.



* * *



—

I had no idea what the process was when somebody died, how it worked with the mortgage payments or what was done with a person’s personal effects, but the place looked pretty much the same as the last time I’d been there, except that the kitchen had been cleaned, all of his food was gone, and the weird makeshift murder wall he’d created had been removed.

I made my way across Baron’s living room, past the coffee table with the brass knob that always fell off when you bumped it, and through the dining room that had previously contained the murder wall.

I wasn’t searching for anything in particular, but I figured, since I’d taken the time to break and enter, the least I could do was take a quick look around.

I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to find anything. If Baron had something he wanted to keep secret or safe, he most likely would have hidden it somewhere on his laptop, which wasn’t there.

After a cursory search of the bedroom and kitchen, I sat down on the couch and took another look around.

What was I expecting to find?

Chloe and I had already gone through all of the weird nonsense written on Baron’s murder wall, and there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in his drawers, walls, or cupboards.

I swung my legs up onto the couch, leaned back, and rested my head on the armrest.

As I lay there, staring at the ceiling in my dead friend’s apartment, I realized that it felt good to be inside his place, surrounded by his things: the clay ashtray he’d made in seventh grade (half a joint still balanced on the side), the original 1963 Mouse Trap game by Ideal Toy Company (sitting in a constant state of half-assembly on his dining room table for more than two years), and the huge framed poster of Mad magazine issue number 166 from April 1974 featuring a painting of a giant middle finger (a gift from me for his thirty-fifth birthday).

I could almost feel him there in the room with me.

After I’d been lying on the couch for a few minutes, I started to get the feeling that something was different, like I was missing something obvious, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.