Jay

[Santinka]

Jay
By Santinka

Two figures ran down the ally in the rainy darkness. One chased the smaller figure through a catacomb of cold concrete walks and brick corridors and through one deserted subway.
The echo of harsh, ragged breathing could be heard from a distance, and the Pursuer smiled maliciously, grimly aware that the game was almost up. The sound of sneakers splashing through puddles seemed a victory to the Runner as they pulled away.
Dashing around a dark corner, the second figure stopped and cold horror crashed down as heavy as her breathing. She was trapped, surrounded on three sides by wall that towered above like a mountain.
Turning quickly to the sound of steadily approaching footsteps, she gasped the air painfully into raw lungs, knowing she couldn’t fight, not now.
The man blocking her only way out pulled a gun from his coat, lifted and fired.
The other figure doubled over, clutching her stomach, and the Pursuer’s lips curled into serpentine smile of satisfaction. He dropped his hand to his side and watched for her to die.
Suddenly she looked up, eyes glinting from beneath a black hood, and she straightened, opening a hand.
There in a burned palm lay a bullet, steaming as the rain hit it. Slowly, as if in a dream, she let the bullet fall, the soft “plink” barely audible as it splashed down.
Hi. My name is Jay. I can catch anything.

***

The sounds of the midnight train woke me from an uneasy sleep. I can’t remember the last time I slept the whole night through. I didn’t use to notice the train.
I listened until the only sound I could hear was the tick. Tock. Of the pizza clock on the wall, afraid to open my eyes.
For what seemed like hours I lay on the bed completely still, tangled in sheets, afraid to breath, looking at the ceiling, the one thing safe enough to stare at in a fifteen-year-old’s paranoia of the dark. What would I see if I looked at the doorway? Or the window? A man with a gun? Something worse?
I don’t remember falling asleep or even closing my eyes, but all night a dread invaded my sleep, worse than a nightmare, a ghostly shadow on my heart.

***

The ball breezed into my waiting hands like it was meant to be there and without even looking at it I was off and running. Davy Gi tried to block my path and flailed his arms like a raving lunatic, but nobody can guard me on a basketball court, not for long. I play hard and fast. The more stressed I am, the harder I play, and lately, I’ve been really stressed.
Davy didn’t even see me go I got around him so fast. I raced to the free-throw and leapt with all my might, sending the ball soaring toward the net just as somebody crashed into me hard from behind, and my head collided painfully with the floor.
Thick hands wrapped around my throat and squeezed the breath from me as I lay for a moment stunned. Then suddenly my body snapped into action. Hands, feet, anything I could move, and then suddenly the pressure was gone and there was shouting, but still I kicked and swung—
“Jay!”
I opened my eyes.
Kids stared at me from all directions, some with fear, but mostly hostility, like I’d just turned into a robot off of Terminator. Davy Gi and another guy, Jared something, both looked at me, glared at me, angry and confused both. I was on my feet with my fists raised.
“Davy—I’m sorry I didn’t mean—”
Suddenly it felt like my stomach turned to rock and my fists dropped to my sides. My stomach lurched like I was going to be sick and then I was running, running away from the gym as fast as my feet could carry me.
What was wrong with me?! What kind of freak was I?!
I knew. I knew exactly what was wrong. I’d seen something I shouldn’t have, and now I was scared. Scared for my life.
Any other girl would have gone for the bathroom, maybe the locker room, but I was outside before I knew it, running flat out around the corner and behind the school. There was a narrow ally back there, between the cafeteria dumpster and the big maintenance shed. It was covered with graffiti and blocked on one end by the janitor’s truck.
I stopped suddenly, as if I’d never been running, and pulled up my black hood. Everything was wet, but I didn’t care. I dodged behind the dumpster and sat, hugging my knees, staring at the broken glass and cement for a long time, trying not to think about anything, anything at all.

***

I woke up to the sound of crunching footsteps coming toward the dumpster. I opened my eyes back to that not-quite-there expression that I didn’t have the willpower to change as two Nikes stepped into view. I didn’t move, didn’t make a sound.
I listened as Davy Gi shoved his hands into his pockets, then with a curse sat down beside me. He didn’t say anything. Neither did I. Not for a long time.
“What’s wrong, Jay?” he asked finally. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell him. If I did, then someone would find out. They would find out. They’d find me. They’d find him! No. I couldn’t say anything.
Davy cursed again. “Why won’t you tell me?!” He grabbed my shoulder but I jerked it away limply. For a moment all was still. Then he reached, too quick for me to dodge and pulled back my hood. “We been friends since second grade. The least you could do is look at—“ he cut himself off with another oath.
I didn’t turn away fast enough. It didn’t matter anyway, because he turned me where I sat and saw the tears streaming down my face, way before I could brush them away.
What happened?!” Davy asked in horror. “This is bigger than earlier, what’s wrong?”
He had a reason to be horrified. I cried even less than he did, which is to say, never. For anything.
“What?!” I spat violently. “I can’t fall down without turning around and hitting someone?!” My blood roared in my ears and my heart twisted at the anger that filled me, anger at myself, and fear. I tried to cling to the anger. Anything was better than that sick fear that choked me.
“Jay—”
“Get away from me Davy,” I shouted, leaping to my feet. “Get away!”
From the look on his face I knew he could see my eyes, glinting the strange, fearsome gray that they always were when I was having mood swings. He was on his feet now too, and he took a slow step back. I was scaring him, but I couldn’t stop this violent torrent of rage that was about to blast through the pathetic defenses I’d put up to hide it.
Davy gulped and somewhere, in the back of my mind, where the sensible part was getting darker by the moment, I saw his jaw clench and his fists tighten as he stepped forward. “Did somebody hurt you?!” he asked fiercely, ready to do the toughest, stupidest thing he could: stand up to me. Bad move.
Worse. He stepped into range.
“I said leave me alone!” I screamed, retaliating to his closeness without thought or reason. Davy reeled back from the impact, staggering into the wall and looking almost surprised. If I hadn’t been in such a rage I might have seen that glint in his eyes, that confirmation that said something is definitely wrong.
I didn’t though. I took off as fast as I could go, away from Davy, the ally, school, everything, and behind me, my best friend stared after, not knowing what to do.

***

If I didn’t know better, I’d say fate has a twisted sense of humor. I mean, come on! How did I end up here anyway? Of course, the last couple hours have been a bit dim on my part, but of all places…
Right. You’re wondering where here is. You haven’t got the slightest clue. And I don’t blame you, either. But then, maybe you’re thinking I went home, right? Not. Why in the world would I go there? No. Fate is a bit more twisted than that. You still want to know where I am, don’t you? Ha!
Davy Gi’s house. Yeah. That’s right. Weird huh? ‘Cause this was not my plan, if I had a plan, which I didn’t. But it gets worse. I was in his room.
I glared at my feet. “This is all your fault,” I told them as I realized I was laying on his bed. My sneakers covered up any reaction to my accusation, the perfect lawyers for all offending parties. I sat up, realizing as I did so that my wet hair and clothes had left the bed nice and soggy. For a minute, I was sorry, but then I remembered…the other thing…and forgot all about it. I wanted to sit in a corner and hide, ignore the fear. Maybe then I’d be able to sleep. Maybe it would all just be a nightmare and I would wake up if I could just get some sleep.
I realized where I was for the second time and got to my feet. No way would I be here when Davy made it home. My pride wasn’t up to that, and my mind was stretched enough as is.
I crept from his room, sneakers squeaking down the hallway because they were wet. The noise was annoying, but it didn’t slow me down. If I wanted to get out before next week, I’d have to ignore it.
The front door creaked as someone came in and I forgot all the creeping and launched out the back door, running as fast as I could to anywhere but there. I didn’t have a watch, but I was pretty sure that Davy Gi had made it back from school and it was all or nothing.
I tried to take deep, quieting breaths, but that’s hard to do while you’re running and I gave up fast. If it weren’t for Davy, I might have quit running instead. My nerves could definitely use the calm.
So there I was, running down the sidewalk toward a bad part of town, my face getting windburn and my heart pumping for all it was worth while it tried desperately to convince my brain I needed more air, and guess what?!
There was Davy, running toward me anyway. In all the running I’d forgotten to check my route and realized, quite suddenly and with a nasty shock, that this was the way Davy came when he walked home from school.
My panicked brain wasn’t paying much attention to where I was going then either(it was a little too busy panicking) and I swerved into an ally of questionable safety.
“Jay!”
Behind me Davy cursed as he ran and I cursed my luck. I’d run so much already that I was slower than usual. He might actually be able to catch up with me.
Somebody stepped into the end of the ally, blocking my path. Ordinarily it wouldn’t have bothered me—I’ve escaped more than my fair share of muggers—but something about his stance threw me, and all of a sudden, I recognized him.
My brain switched gears from panic to terror as the memory hit me in the face—
The man in the white business suit standing in the rain, a black umbrella keeping him dry. He had his back to me and was watching as his four cronies beat two other guys down. They screamed something about “the money” and screamed some more as they were kicked mercilessly.
I hadn’t meant to see it. I didn’t know—I just came around the corner and there they were, and I couldn’t do anything and then—oh no, Lord help me, please they’ve got a gun! Stop!
The two guys stopped moving and the man in the business suit tucked the gun into his pocket, stripping off his gloves and handing them to a crony. He turned around to get into his fancy car—black with tinted windows—and then he saw me. His lips moved and the cronies looked at me too, and then they all had guns and were shooting and I was running, too scared even to cry as I ran across the street and through a bunch of allies toward the bridge. My only thought was the traffic and how very public the place was.
They can’t shoot me there they can’t someone would see them they can’t! My thoughts were a jumble of terror and I didn’t dare look back, but then I did anyway and I saw their faces and oh help me they’re too close—
I didn’t even stop. I was running top speed down the ally one second and the next I was already going the other.
“Run!” I screamed at Davy without giving him time to do it. I had already hooked an arm around him and was dragging him back the way we’d come. Behind us I heard a metallic click and I dropped like a stone, jerking Davy down with me as the gunshot rang down the ally and bullets whizzed overhead. I dragged Davy up and ran again.
I jerked him around the corner and down the street, headed for the bridge again. We turned another corner and a different guy stepped out of an ally ahead. I swerved across the road and into another, immediately turning left into the loading lane. We had the advantage of speed on our side and I used it, turning several different corners that left the men behind.
Beside me Davy looked like he was about to go into shock, but when we charged past a dead end he dug in his heels and pulled me back.
“Fire escape!” he hissed, and without hesitation we were in, climbing on top of the graffiti covered dumpster and leaping for the ladder. It was too high and Davy barely managed to grab it with one hand. Without thinking I gave him a boost, shoving him up to where he could reach. He twisted, reaching back for my hand and I jumped up to catch it, one hand on the ladder as he hefted me up.
Before I could get my feet onto the first rung three men made it to the end of the ally. They started firing all at once at my dangling legs and I screamed. Davy used all his strength and pulled me up. We shot up the ladder and onto the stairs, desperate to escape the bullets flying around us.
“Quick!” I said, pointing to a narrow catwalk. It connected two buildings and I was hoping that it would buy us time.
“What’s going on—how did they know where you’d go who are they?!”
“Talk later,” I snapped, racing across the catwalk. Halfway out, the fourth crony found us, shooting up from the street. We went faster, thankful for the cross-hatched metal that blocked the bullets.
“Left!” I said, and we went across the roof of a big building. When it ended I cursed. It must have been a five foot jump to the next one. Normally that wouldn’t bother me—piece a cake!—but it was a long two stories down, and the whole point of running was to live.
Pounding footsteps across the catwalk decided for me and I acted without thinking.
I leapt across the gap, hitting the other roof with my stomach, feet dangling. The breath was knocked out of me and for a moment I could barely hang on. I looked down and made another split second move. I let go.
My knees buckled as they hit the balcony a few feet down and behind me I heard Davy curse and leap, a couple seconds later landing beside me.
“Window,” I wheezed.
Davy smashed his fist through the glass balcony door and unlocked it, sliding it open and pulling me to my feet. We rushed in and he pulled the door and curtains shut. Without hesitation we went through somebody’s apartment, unlocked the door, ran down two flights of stairs and outside . We heard a distant crash. It sounded as if someone had just shattered the rest of the balcony door. We ran down the street without knowing where exactly we were going, except that it was away from the cronies.
I realized all of a sudden that the road going left at the intersection ahead would take us to the safest place we could possibly be at this point: the police station. But we didn’t make it as far as the intersection. A sleek black car, fancy and with tinted windows, pulled up to the stop sign.
“Bad,” I growled. Davy and I ran to the other side of the street, ignoring the honks of traffic and screeching tires as a taxi driver hit his brakes. Hurling curses like it was his born language, the taxi man shook his fist and made a few gestures that I chose to ignore. Life or death.
We took a shortcut between two big buildings and ended up on a busy street where the traffic was backed up.
“Bank,” I gasped, and we went into the first one we saw. There’s no place safer than a bank, at least that was available to someone like me, who had absolutely no top secret security clearance for a government agency that “doesn’t exist.” One hint of a gun here and the entire police force would be at the front door.
Davy and I collapsed onto a couch, breathing hard and shaking with fatigue and fear. A security guard frowned and came to stand in front of us. “You can’t hang out here,” he said, jerking his head toward the door and pointing to a sign that said NO LOITERING. I gestured helplessly. I could barely breathe, let alone talk!
When I caught my breath I said, still wheezing, “No we—ran—all the way—here. Just—let me catch—my breath—I’ll—explain—huh.” I sat back in the chair and the security guard, suspicious though he was, left for a few minutes. When he got back, I was leaning against the arm of the couch with my eyes closed, chest still heaving.
“Here,” the guard muttered. I opened my eyes. He’d brought two plastic cups of water, one for me and one for Davy.
“Thanks,” I gasped, surprised. I took a long drink. Davy was looking out the window nervously. I stomped on his foot under the table to get his attention. “Thanks,” I told the guard again. “We ran here from school. Mom told me to come see about a—uh—”
“Business account,” Davy said, pointing at me as if he’d just remembered.
“Yeah that. She wanted me to look into a couple of different kinds and bring back a report. She’s busy and asked me to do it for her.”
My mom didn’t ask me anything of course. I hadn’t even seen her for the last three weeks. She was on a business trip to somewhere doing something important that I didn’t really care about.
“What about him?” the guard asked, nodding at Davy.
“We’re going for pizza later,” I said. “The shortcut isn’t a very good part of town and he agreed to come with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”
“Why were you running?” the guard asked.
Because the crazy people with guns were chasing us.
“Uh—it was a bet,” I said, improvising. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the cronies meet up outside, argue for a minute, then leave, splitting up. I slouched.
Don’t let them see me, I prayed.
“A bet.”
“Yep,” Davy covered. “I bet her I could get here faster. If I won, we’d go get pizza, and if she won, we’d get burgers.”
“Who won?”
“I did,” I said.
“I thought you were getting pizza later.”
Oops.
“We are,” I said quickly. “I decided it sounded good after all.”
“Right,” said the guard knowingly. I wondered how much he had guessed already.
“We better get going,” Davy said, checking his watch.
“Don’t you have an account to check?”
“Yeah. That’s what he meant,” I said, as if it were obvious. After that we had to go through with it and listen to the clerk lady explain all of the different accounts while we tried to act normal. When we finally got out of the bank the coast had long been clear.
“Come on,” I said.
“Hey! I thought we were getting pizza?”
I just stared at him. “Are you out of your mind?” I asked incredulously.
Davy shrugged. “I’m hungry. Anyway, the security guard is watching.”
“I’m broke,” I stated flatly, trying not to glare.
“I got some money,” Davy said, and started walking. I stared at him with what I imagine was an incredibly stupefied expression. He couldn’t honestly think I’d go along!
Fifteen minutes later, Davy ordered a half and half pizza. Half pepperoni for me, half with all toppings for him. There was a small pizza joint not far from the bank, in a busy part of town where we wouldn’t be noticed. It wasn’t until we started waiting that I realized I really was hungry.
When our pizza was ready, Davy brought it back and we slid into a bright red booth. Pizza is a favorite of mine. Few things taste as good as a hot pizza, covered in melty cheese and fresh-made crust.
We ate in silence for a while before Davy pushed his plate away. “You gonna tell what’s goin’ on?”
I swallowed my pizza hard, and suddenly it didn’t taste as great as it had a moment ago. I dropped my piece onto the plate and took a swig of Dr. Pepper, staring at my glass as the bubbles swirled and calmed. “Not here,” I mumbled.
The last piece of pepperoni was on my plate, still hot, but I couldn’t even look at it. My stomach churned at the thought of another bite. I got up so I wouldn’t have to look at it anymore, putting my hood up and shoving my suddenly cold hands into the pocket of my hoody.
“Come on,” Davy said, tossing some money on the table. “We’ll go.”

***

 

[Santinka]

The park was deserted. Empty swings moved back and forth eerily, creaking and wet. The sky was cloudy and gray, casting melancholy colors over everything. I turned a swing inside out and sat down, staring at my feet. Davy did the same, sitting in the one beside me. He didn’t say anything. I dug a hole in the ground with my shoe, trying to gather the courage to tell him what was going on.
“It was two weeks ago,” I finally said, so quietly that he had to lean in to hear. “The day you skipped, remember? I was taking the shortcut home—you know the one.”
I told him, trying hard to keep my voice from shaking and the pizza down, about everything that happened that day. I’d seen two guys murdered. Someone had tried to kill me—and now they’d found me again, the exact thing that I was afraid of.
All of a sudden the afternoon caught up to me with stark reality and I clapped a hand over my mouth, really afraid I’d lose it. I hadn’t just gotten me into trouble. I had almost gotten Davy killed.
I stood up and walked away quickly, but I didn’t get far before I leaned against the brick wall that made up one side of the playground, fighting back the scorching bile in my throat until my stomach settled. I sagged against the wall, leaning hard, then slid down, hugging myself. I was tired and cold and wet and targeted. I didn’t hear Davy at all, not until he wrapped an arm around me. “Jay,” he muttered. “Did you tell anyone else?”
I shook my head slightly, afraid to open my mouth. Who was I supposed to tell, a teddy bear? Fat chance. I still doubted I should’ve told Davy, and he’d been shot at too. What was I supposed to do now? Davy Gi might die, I’ll definitely die, who knows what else might happen in between? I buried my face in my hands, trying to make sense of something to do. But what can you possibly do when reality twists to show you that you’re the joker in a deck of aces?
“Are you gonna be okay?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, a bit hysterically. “Weren’t you listening? I’m dead, Davy. I’m a dead kid walking, and now, so are you!” I realized that I was on my feet and wondered vaguely how it happened. I was shouting, too.
Davy stood up coolly, as if he’d meant to all along, keeping his eyes on me. I frowned, suddenly uneasy. Why was he looking at me like that? I backed into the wall as he stepped closer. What was going on?! Why was he that close?
I caught my breath. “Too c-close,” I stuttered, and he caught me with his eyes. They were dark brown, like melted chocolate and cinnamon. I couldn’t actually remember ever looking at Davy’s eyes before. They held me in place, showing me my own reflection. He planted his hands on either side of my head, and leaned closer.
It’s not like I’ve never been kissed before, let me get that straight. The thing that scared me was who the kiss was coming from. I mean, I had never, ever thought of Davy that way, and he hadn’t ever thought of me that way—had he? I tried to remember the last time he’d had a girlfriend.
“It’s rude to stare,” he murmured as his lips touched mine. I think it was shock—that’s why I let him do it in the first place. I couldn’t help it that my eyes closed. It was rather a lot to take in and I was still having issues with my breathing. I couldn’t stop my arms from sneaking up over his shoulders either and feeling how solid he was, which they shouldn’t have done at all. Yes. It had to be shock. This must have been by far the strangest part of my day. How long had I known him again? At this point it was kind of hard to remember.
Davy finally backed off a bit. I think he noticed that I had quit breathing all together, and it took me a minute to uncross my eyes. I was light-headed and dizzy, I thought I might fall if the wall weren’t there, and Davy still had that weird look in his eye. It took me a while to pin it on a mix of seductiveness and curiosity.
“What do you think?” he asked a bit coyly. Coy? Davy?! It took me a good long while to get my thoughts to stop spinning long enough to focus on an answer. Not that I did. Answer, that is.
“Was murder and mayhem romantic or did getting shot at seem hot to you?” I asked, giving him a strange look.
Davy laughed, dropping an arm so I could move over some. “Now or never,” he said, leaning on his elbow and looking at me. I looked everywhere but at him.
The clouds opened up and the heavens chose that moment to pull the plug on the celestial bathtub.
“Geeze that’s cold,” I yelped, and started across the playground toward the bathrooms.
I was behind the slides when the screech of tires brought me to a sharp halt and I looked back. Davy was staring at the gate, frowning. I heard a car door slam and then Davy’s lips moved quickly as he backed away.
“—no mister I don’t know what you’re talking about. A what? Seen it?! Are you outta your mind? If I had I wouldn’t be standin’ here. I’d be on my way to Mexico.”
I edged quickly out of sight, climbing the ladder to the covered slide where I’d be harder to see. Davy was talking to a beefy, muscular guy that I recognized at once as one of the cronies of the Guy in White. Maybe if I kept out of sight they’d leave Davy alone and we could get out of here, go someplace safe.
I could barely see and I thought the guy was leaving when all of a sudden there was a shout. “There!” and the guy jerked around, looking up at my hiding place. I slipped into the slide, holding myself in place at the top, praying that I wouldn’t be noticed.
I heard Davy shout and let myself slip some, enough to see through the hole of a missing bolt. Two guys had hold of a struggling Davy and were dragging him out of the gate, where the car waited unseen, while another one came after me. I bit my lip and braced my arms.
“I know yor in there, gel!” said the man. He had a thick Australian accent. “We got yor pretty boyfriend. We won’t ‘urt ‘im if ye come quiet loike.”
I bit my lip, eyes closed.
I’m not here. I’m not here, I thought. If I tried hard enough, then maybe it would be true. Maybe I’d be safe and somewhere else.
I heard thudding boots on the playground equipment, climbing up the ladder. I slipped down a little farther, quietly. I would be out of sight from the top and bottom now. Maybe they would think it was a mistake, let Davy go, and disappear in their fancy black car.
And maybe a parking lot would have babies and pigs would fly around handing out chocolate hearts.
“I know yor in there,” he said murmured dangerously. “You won’t get away this toime.”
I held my breath. My heart raced the echoes of itself in a match of speed that beat like rock drums in my head. Could the man hear it? I hoped not.
“Ahhh!” he bellowed and kicked the slide. I slipped a few inches and I started breathing again, hoping that he couldn’t hear. All of the sudden there was a metallic “click” and he started shooting into the slide. I gasped and clamped my ears as the sound, magnified by the enclosed space, boomed in my head, shooting down the slide too fast, eyes screwed shut. Someone grabbed me at the bottom and I screamed, kicking out wildly.
A hand clamped over my mouth and I bit it fiercely, sinking my teeth in to the bone. The man yelped and jerked his hand away and I spit out the blood, screaming again and driving my elbows into his stomach. I stomped on his foot and fought half-way free of his grip, then kicked him low and made a run for it. Not two steps later a second man grabbed me, wrapping one arm securely about mine, making it impossible to hit or elbow, and his hand clamped over my mouth. I tried to bite him, too, but couldn’t get through his leather gloves to do it and screamed some more instead, though I knew I couldn’t be heard.
They dragged me into the car, still fighting any way I could. I banged my head on the frame of the door when I kicked up with all my strength and threw my captors off balance, but they still got me in. Duck tape was wrapped around my hands and across my mouth, locking in my screams. I still made any noise I could.
They threw me on top of Davy, who was likewise bound, and we both struck out, landing a few vicious kicks before the Australian pulled out a gun, pointing it at the both of us. We froze.
“Enough,” he snarled. “Droive!” he snapped at the front seat, and the car jumped into motion. Hoods were pulled over our heads and we drove around in what felt like circles for over an hour.
In the privacy of my own blackness I thought about escape. It was no good in the car or hooded and I didn’t have any weapons. How then? How do a fifteen year old girl and boy escape four armed men when they have no advantage at all?

***

I was led roughly down a flight of stairs, keeping my feet, but only just. I couldn’t concentrate enough to listen for Davy’s footsteps behind me. Was he there? I didn’t know, couldn’t be sure, but I thought I could hear extra footsteps behind me.
One forty-one, one forty-two, one-forty-three, I counted. One forty-four, one forty-five, one forty-six…
The ground leveled out and I recognized the feel of concrete under my shoes. I was pushed into a chair and my feet were tied to it, while my hands were cuffed to the back. Someone pulled off the black hood that covered my face and for a minute I couldn’t see anything. With spots still in my eyes I did a full sweep of the room, taking in as much as I could. Davy was pushed into another chair a few feet away.
“You are sure these are the ones?” a new voice asked.
“Yessir,” the Australian confirmed.
My eyes settled on the man in the white suit. For a second I was scared, but then fear turned to rage. I’m good at that transition—some might say it comes naturally, like talent or eye color. I glared daggers at him.
The Guy in White chuckled when he saw my expression. “Not afraid at all, are you?” he asked, the way someone would tell their dog “good boy” or “how’s my big brave girl!” A growl rose from deep in my chest and into my throat, clearly audible, gag or no gag. He walked toward me and ran a finger from my cheek to my chin, making me shudder in disgust. “So pretty. Hmm. It’s a shame I have to kill you. Won’t you look at me, pretty girl?”
I didn’t. I kept my eyes exactly where they were, focused below his belt—which, I admit, is not a great place to look, but if I timed it just right…
“Come on now, look at me,” said the Guy in White, forcing my chin up. I clamped my eyes shut. That may have been plain contrariness. Mom always did say I had a stubborn streak a mile wide.
The Guy straightened up. Now or never, I thought. I leaned back and threw myself forward with all my might, jerking the chair off its legs and smashing my head into—well, you remember—staggering him back a few steps while I twisted, trying not to land on my face. The chair ended up on its side and I hit my head again.
I saw a set of brown work boots in front of me and closed my eyes, ready for the worst. Davy struggled against his bonds and choked.
“Leave her there,” the Guy snapped. A few seconds later the door slammed and I looked around. My heart gave a leap when I realized that we were alone.
They had left us alone in a warehouse basement. It was the chance I’d been hoping for—after that other one I mean, where I hit the Guy. I twisted a safety pin out of the cuff of my hoody and set to work on the lock. It was hard. I’d brought the chair down on my wrist and it hurt bad, but I ignored the pain, concentrating instead on freedom. I worked on the tape on my mouth as well, spitting on it to loosen its grip. It wasn’t long before I had it off enough that I could scream, but I held my silence.
Come on, come on! I thought as the safety pin worked. The handcuffs clicked and I dropped my arm in front of me, pulling the chair off of my wrist. I didn’t waste time picking the lock on the other wrist, but went straight to work on my feet, pulling them free. Once I escaped the chair, I turned to Davy.
He watched me with hopeful eyes. I worked his cuffs first, picking the lock on one side, then ripping off the gag. He groaned, quietly.
“Sorry,” I whispered, helping him work his feet free. “Let’s get out of here,” I said.
“Wait!” Davy looked around. “We can’t go out that way. There’s probably a guard. Quick, help me barricade it,” he said. I had to hand it to him, he was right. Maybe I should watch 007 more often. We pushed a table in front of the door and propped a chair under the knob, hoping that this would buy us some time while we looked for a way out.
A window at the top of the wall looked like our best bet. We pushed one of the chairs under it and Davy stood on top, reaching up to open it. It was the kind of window that swung out instead of sliding up or down.
He shook his head. “No good. I’m not tall enough, and we can’t use the table.”
“What if I gave you a boost?” I asked, remembering the fire escape from what felt like weeks, years ago, though it had been only hours.
We both jumped when the doorknob rattled and there was shouting on the stairs. Davy cursed. “Quick, get on my shoulders,” he said.
“No way—”
“There’s no time!” he said.
“Davy—”
“Now!”
My eyes were gray, I could feel it. As soon as we got out of here, I‘d kill him. I climbed onto the chair, then his shoulders, and lifted the old-fashioned pane, crawling out as fast as I was able. I could hear the shouting and loud thuds on the other side of the room and the table screeched as it was pushed slowly out of the way.
“Come on!” I rushed, giving Davy my hand. He reached for it.
With a final screech the table was out of the way and the Australian charged across the room, kicking the chair out from under Davy’s feet. “Run!” he shouted at me, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him out anyway. The Australian jerked out his gun, making a bead on me and I lunged back as the bullet smashed the glass, then stumbled to my feet, running already. In seconds we were being pursued by an ugly guy I’d never seen before.
“Split!” I said, and Davy and I cut opposite directions. I ran down an ally in the rainy darkness, not seeing where he went and not daring to turn and look. The crony, a big, burly man, chased me through a catacomb of cold concrete walks and brick corridors and through one deserted subway, all the while keeping pace behind me, but not using the gun I knew he had.
The echo of my own harsh, ragged breathing could be heard from a distance I knew, and the crony smiled maliciously. The sound of my sneakers splashing through puddles seemed like a victory cheer as I finally began to pull away.
Dashing around a dark corner, I lurched to a stop and cold horror crashed down as heavy as my breathing. I was trapped, surrounded on three sides by wall that towered above, too high to climb.
Turning quickly to the sound of steadily approaching footsteps, I gasped the air painfully into raw lungs, knowing I couldn’t fight, not now.
The man blocking my only way out pulled a gun from his coat, lifted and fired.
I doubled over, clutching my stomach, and the crony’s lips curled into serpentine smile of satisfaction. He dropped his hand to his side and waited for me to die.
But I wasn’t going to die, I realized as the rain beat down.
I looked up, eyes burning beneath my black hood, and I straightened, opening a hand.
There, in my own burned palm lay a bullet, steaming and sizzling as the rain hit it. Slowly, as if in a dream, I let the bullet fall, the soft “plink” barely audible as it splashed down.
The man choked on his own sob, running from me in terror, and I realized then that what everyone had always said was true.
I can catch anything.

***

It wasn’t long before I realized that Davy wasn’t coming.
Back and forth I paced, trying to stay calm. Just another minute, I told myself. He’ll be here soon.
Ten minutes later I was telling myself the same thing, and finally I gave up. The first place Davy would’ve come was here—not either of our houses of course. No, this was the roof of a boarded-up electric building. You know the kind—with the big, red lettered signs that say DANGER! KEEP OUT. We’d found it one day three summers ago and vowed that if either of us ever ran away, we’d come here for a day or two first if we planned to move on. The same rule applied with crisis.
That’s a secret. Don’t tell anyone, understand?!
I flexed my scorched hand, unable to stop staring at the pink burns the bullet had made. My mind kept trying to wrap around it—how it couldn’t have happened, how much it hurt and the proof branded on my skin and waiting in my pocket. That’s where the bullet was. I’d picked it up after the shooter ran off.
I couldn’t wait anymore. That deep-down feeling of dread knotted in the pit of my stomach and I knew without uncertainty that Davy had been caught. I didn’t let my mind go further than that. Caught was bad enough on its own.
I shimmied down the big pipe that ran down the corner of the roof, careful not to misstep or slide. I traced my way haltingly through the narrow streets, fleeing from one thing to another, constantly watching my surroundings. That was how I made it without them knowing I was there.
As luck would have it, the security guard at the front door was asleep, drooling down the side of the arm his head was propped up with. I walked slowly toward him, so slowly that even my squeaky sneakers were silent. I don’t think he ever even knew I was there. Not when I took his gun, ever so carefully, from its holster, or when I slipped the radio off of his belt. I slipped through the door behind him, closing it quietly.
I dumped the gun in a trash can and fiddled with the radio until I figured out how to turn it on, then pushed a button. “Hello?” I whispered grimly, not wanting to attract attention by speaking out loud.
“Aahh,” I heard a familiar voice say. It was distorted by static, but still obviously the Guy in White’s. “So you did show. I had a bet you see,” the man continued smugly. “I said you would come back. My colleagues thought you would leave your little boyfriend to die.
“Meet me in the back of the warehouse in oh, say, ten minutes?” He chuckled infuriatingly and the speakers left only static. I clenched my fists, hurling the radio away from me. I needed a plan, something good, but I couldn’t think of anything. My mind had gone as blank a sheet of white paper.
“Any ideas?” I asked my shoes. They were, as usual, silent. I took a squeaky step forward and stopped, staring at my feet. “Hmm…”

***

I crawled over the edge of the roof, reaching perilously for a gutter which I was less than sure would hold my weight. I slid slowly down until I reached the first window ledge, making my way carefully down and down, until I finally reached the second floor. It was a big warehouse, and I’d slipped my way pretty far.
I sank onto my stomach, inching forward until I had a clear view of the ground below.
The Guy in White stood still, his expression utterly bored, but his profile showed me that he was impatient and angry. I hadn’t made him a happy camper, and I made a mental note to add him to the ever-growing list of people I’d annoyed. His hands were clasped in front of him and his feet were spread apart—classic Mafia—with two goons behind him. One of them had Davy, whose eyes were wild, like a cornered fox. His arms were twisted up behind his back and his mouth was taped shut. I couldn’t see for sure, but I thought his wrists were taped together too. He had a big bruise on one eye and a nasty cut on his cheek. I winced.
I couldn’t just go down there though. I didn’t want to get shot for crying out loud, whether I was headed that way or not! Instead I sent my eyes to work, looking for a different way to save my friend and not get us both killed in the process. I couldn’t fight those two down there. I just wasn’t strong enough, and besides, at this point, they’d probably just shoot me and get it over with. No, there had to be another way…
That’s when my eyes fell on the truck. It was big—the kind the mailman drives—and sturdy. Without my telling it to do so my body sidled toward it. It was almost under me anyway, and if I got down in the right place I wouldn’t be seen. It was also behind them, which gave me another advantage.
I crept soundlessly onto the roof, then slipped down the back before anyone could see, except Davy, who had the sense not to make a move but immediately looked away, as if searching for some means of escape.
Like a mailman’s truck, the old diesel had open sides, and I crawled in without slamming any doors. My luck wasn’t perfect: there were no keys in the ignition. Still, Davy had taught me once—don’t ask me how he knew—how to hot-wire a vehicle, and I set to work as quickly and quietly as possible.
One more wire to connect and I’d be good. I switched the gears, got my foot ready on the clutch, and spliced them together.
The truck roared to life and I hit the gas pedal to the floor, charging forward, straight at the small group ahead. One crony pulled out a gun and I ducked as bullets riddled the glass, swinging the wheel after him. He dove out of the way, but I still managed to catch part of him before I smashed into the dumpster.

***

The airbag on the bug truck deployed, filling the cab with white. The engine hissed and the front tires spun, lifted off of the ground. The whole front end was demolished into the dumpster, which had crumpled almost completely, sandwiched between the truck and a solid brick wall.
Andrew Blakeny peered in but found himself unable to see inside, his view blocked by the huge airbag. It didn’t matter greatly; he very much doubted that anyone could have survived a crash like that. Still, he was stunned to discover that he wanted to help the girl. She’d tried to kill him with a truck for Pete’s sake! And yet, he found he admired her for it. He hadn’t even seen her get in, let alone start it—the keys were in his pocket, which meant she had to have hot-wired it—and from inside! He thought back to the first time he’d seen her, in the ally days ago. She’d been smart, instead of panicking, and had dodged, eluded and tricked until she’d made her escape.
Perhaps it was the way she’d shown no fear when she’d been caught. Maybe it was the fierce, angry gray of her eyes, glaring up at the Man while he talked about her death, her vicious attempt to cause him pain, no matter how slight. She had never begged for her life or her friend’s. She’d gotten them out herself.
No, he couldn’t help but want her to succeed, though he knew she couldn’t. The odds were all against her, if she was even still alive. Andrew felt grim.
Shame, he thought. The world needs a few more people loike that and a few less loike me. He looked in through the broken window on the driver’s side, trying to see through the puffy airbag. He reached in to wrench it aside. Gray eyes burned up at him and before he could react the door smashed out and into his head with a loud bang and he hit the ground, unconscious.

***

I listened to the shouting with fuzzy disinterest and left the door hanging open, crawling into the back lethargically. My head hurt. I hit it on something, but I didn’t know what. I kept in the groan that movement caused, feeling bruises everywhere. I stopped crawling and laid down my head for a minute. I was so, so tired…
No, said a voice in my head. Get up.
I made an effort and got my eyes open some, seeing cluttered packages and metal.
Save Davy, the voice demanded. Get up.
I dragged myself onto my hands and knees, then into a crouch, my mind still dark.
NOW.
I staggered to my feet. Wake up. Come on, wake up, you have to do this! the voice insisted, and I realized it was mine. “Davy…” I mumbled, focusing hard, trying to remember where I was.
The truck. Yes. I was driving it at—at…
I rolled my shoulders painfully, the memory flowing back like blood. My eyes focused themselves on a door handle and I moved toward it, pushing down on the handle. I poked my head out.
Someone was shouting on the other side of the truck, out of my view. I couldn’t see anyone. I crept out, closing the door quietly and crawling underneath the truck, looking at feet. There was a pair of polished white shoes, two sets of work boots and one of dirty, worn out black Nikes that I recognized as Davy’s. The guy I kicked was on the ground, not moving. I wondered distantly if he was dead or just unconscious, but forgot about him before I’d decided.
The leg attached to one boot was twisted and limp, the other trembling.
“Get in there!” raged the Guy in White’s voice.
“I can’t even stand!” a less familiar one shouted back, distorted with pain. I crawled backwards, until I made it out, then sneaked around the corner, the side between the wall and the side of the truck. I heard the guy fall on the other side and quickly propped my feet up on a tire. I didn’t want him to see them.
The truck shook some as someone crawled into it, cursing at the airbag. I slipped behind the dumpster, quickly counting in my head. All of the goons were accounted for, except the one who’d shot me—almost—and if I were going to make a move, I had to do it now.
I picked up a piece of metal and peeked around the corner. The man in the white suit was holding Davy now. I growled to myself, then, snapping my arm back and forward with quick energy I hurled the scrap as hard as I could at the Guy’s head. It smacked him hard and he grunted, slumping forward and hitting the ground. He was only stunned—I had to move fast! It was luck that the guy I’d hit with the door was unconscious.
I ran to the back of the truck and kicked the handle hard three times, until it was twisted around backward and couldn’t open. Not a moment later it rattled and there was a thud as the crony inside tried to get out. I ran back to the front and pulled the tape off of Davy’s mouth. He groaned and gasped.
“You came back!” he croaked.
“Duh!” I snapped, trying to work at his wrists. There was too much tape and the truck was shaking as the crony worked his way back toward the front.
“Do it later!” he yelped, and I dropped his wrists, grabbing an arm instead. I pulled him up. He could barely stand and I had to take most of his weight. I slung my arm under his shoulders, turning toward the quickest way out.
And found myself looking down the barrel of the Australian’s gun.
“I owe you a good shot,” he growled. “You been a lo’ of trouble, gel.”
I refused to put my hands up. What was the point? He’d shoot me anyway. I straightened, my chin up defiantly. The man cursed.
“Blast it, you! I can’t do it,” he muttered. “Remind me too much of my bleedin’ little sister.” I frowned at his reasoning but kept my mouth shut. Was he playing me? “Look, I don’t want ye dead, all righ’?” he said. He dropped the gun down to his side, shoving it into his jacket. “Come on, we gotta go.”
“But you’re...one of his...” I gestured at the Guy on the ground.
“Not any bloody more,” the Australian said. “I don’t know what he was thinkin’ in the first place! Two kids—” he shook his head. “Come on.”
He took one of Davy’s arms and so did I, not about to refuse his help whether I trusted him or not, and we started running. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Andrew Blakeny,” he replied. “Why?”
“So I can find you if you double-cross me,” I growled darkly. Andrew shrugged.
“Deserve that I suppose,” he said while we ran.
From behind us came what sounded like the below of an angry bull and I turned. The Guy in White had gotten to his feet and pulled out a gun, aiming it at Davy’s back.
It was like slow motion, Andrew trying to get in the way and shove Davy down at the same time, mouth opening to shout to me, and the Guy’s finger closing on the trigger.
I can catch anything, something whispered. I had done the impossible. I had caught a flying bullet.
And I was going to do it again.
I launched into the air as the report sounded, almost deafeningly loud, falling into the path of the bullet.
I screamed as I hit the ground, not moving. I trembled all through myself, my eyes screwed shut. I rolled over, trying to get to my knees while my mind screamed in agony and my forehead down against the concrete. I heard Davy hit his knees beside me. “Jay?! Jay!”
After a moment his arms were around me, trying to get me to say something, and I wondered what had happened to the duck tape. I lunged to my feet and felt hands supporting me. I opened my burning gray eyes, and looked up, baring my teeth in a wolfish grin at the Guy in White, and opened my hand.
That’s how a single bullet drove a man insane.

***

The picture of a man in a white suit flashed across the screen and the news reporter informed viewers that Corban “Cobra” Vilsweith had been arrested for suspicious activities, proven only hours after he had been taken into custody. He would not be jailed however. Upon arrest he had raved about “the girl” he’d apparently shot, but insisted she had caught the bullet, repeating it over and over. He was being sent to some mental institute in Texas for an unknown amount of time after being diagnosed as insane. An anonymous tip may connect him to the murders of two men a couple of weeks back, and possibly many more. Investigations were ongoing as to what exactly had happened behind the man’s warehouse, where a large truck with multiple bullet holes had been found crushed into a dumpster. Blood had been found on the scene, but whose blood was a bit of a mystery.
Unless you talk to me.
I was laying on the couch at Davy’s house, the remote in one hand, a bag of original flavor potato chips in the other. My head was patched up and so were a couple other places. I had lots of bruises and Davy’s mom had ordered me to stay exactly where I was when she left for work. We didn’t tell her what had happened of course—we made up a story about falling through the floor of an old building that we shouldn’t have been in anyway. My hands had been bandaged too—I told her that the burns were from grabbing a hot pan, though she didn’t believe me—but I’ve gotten rid of those. They were annoying.
After we’d gotten safely away, Andrew told us he’d disappear. I was glad to see him go—the man had kidnapped and shot at me after all!
Davy and I had gone to his house obviously, which was safer than mine. My mom said that was best, since she couldn’t get back yet anyway.
I bet you’re wondering how Davy is. For answer, I’ll just tell you that he only got out of school for a day. Then his mom made him go back. He’s still mad about it.
I’m alone in the house now. I get off the couch (disobeying orders, oooh!) and find a movie, turning it on. I was laying off of Bond for now. I’d had enough of real guns to last me for a while, and I was in no hurry to get back to them. Instead I watched Cinderella. Not my favorite, but it had the least violence. I’m just lucky Davy’s mom likes Disney. I lowered myself back onto the couch with a groan, turning up the volume. I bet the neighbors think I’m crazy.
About the whole, me and Davy thing though…well, we both found out just how much we care for each other while we took turns being shot at. He promised to take me out to eat when I’m allowed to walk again. No pizza this time though, just burgers(was that my idea?).
The bullets are still in the pocket of my hoody, to prove to myself that I really did catch them, in case I should ever imagine I made it up. I hope that I never have to go through something like that again though. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I imagine things will get back to normal—well, mostly. It never will be the same as before, I know that, but at least it’ll settle down.
I crunched on a chip and watched the mouse lob Lucifer in the nose, not worrying about anything for a few minutes.
So there you have it. My story, all in black and white. You might decide someday that you want to come and meet me, and get my autograph, all that good stuff. Well, you can’t. You don’t know my last name, my town, or my state, and I’m not going to tell you. Davy’s last name is not Gi. There’s no way for you to find me.
Don’t you dare try.
My name is Jay. I’m fifteen years old. I can catch anything.  

[Santinka]

About the Author

Santinka is seventeen years old and has been writing ever since she learned how at the age of six or seven. Her hobbies include writing, art of all forms, and hanging out with her friends. Her favorite soda on any given day is Sasparilla or Sioux City rootbeer. She loves animals and has a dog, three fish and three rabbits(at the moment), and has written two and many half books, although none are yet published, but she plans to write as her career. Her favorite authors include Robin McKinley, Tamora Pierce, Stephanie Meyer and Brian Jacques.