The handle turned. Shook. Jangled.
The door was locked.
My heart was beating so hard I felt faint. The handle turned once. Twice. Jiggled vigorously. I stared at it in horror. Then someone slammed into the door with their shoulder.
Wham!
The muffled voices grew louder.
Spinning about, my eyes helplessly searched the room. The only way out was through the window. I was several floors above the street. Except—
I ran to the window and unlocked it to see a fire escape on the other side. I tried pushing the window up, but the owner of the building had very helpfully painted it shut.
I pushed up on the sash. Come on. It moved an inch. Glancing back to the door, I saw it shudder as the strangers on the other side slammed against it. It would give at any moment, so I drew back from the window, raised my leg, and kicked hard at the glass. It shattered, and I punched out the remaining jagged shards with my hand. Climbing headfirst onto a fire escape, I arrowed for the stairs on my left. Within seconds I was charging down them as I heard the door crash open behind me.
There's was no time to think; there was only time to act. I don't run as much as fall, scramble, and tumble from one level to the next. Above me, I heard someone land onto the escape, followed by more footsteps. They were chasing me.
The terror of being caught pushed me on. I slipped on the stairs and banged my knee. It sent a burst of shooting agony up and down my leg. But I ignored it as a fresh fear took root in my mind.
They're not the cops.
Cops would have identified themselves. These aren't the cops. Or any other authority, for that matter. So, who were they? There was no time to ponder the question, though, as I took another turn in the fire escape and found—it ended.
My heart nearly stopped from sheer fright. There's nowhere to go. Then I looked to my left and saw a ladder.
Of course. Attached to the escape was a sliding ladder, designed to allow residents to evacuate the building, but not give thieves access to the apartments. I pushed the ladder down hard, and it clanked noisily to the ground.
Seconds later, I was on the street. Again, there was no time to think. I was in a back alley behind a row of buildings. Large square trash cans lined the sidewalk. I sprinted up the alley as the sound of feet clattered loudly on the ladder behind me.
Bang!
And then—
Bang! Bang!
A bullet ricocheted off the road. I weaved to make myself a more challenging target. The gun fired again and whizzed past my ear. I put on an extra burst of speed, reached the end, and rounded the corner.
The scene that confronted me was insanely normal.
A man and woman walked past hand in hand. A shopkeeper swept the sidewalk in front of his business. Two businessmen were in the middle of an animated conversation. It looked like one of them was excited about some deal he'd hatched. A teenager further down the block was reading a newspaper. Cars crowded the street. The racket out here was overwhelming. No one had heard the gunshots.
The couple glanced at me oddly. Maybe I was wild-eyed and looked like a crazy person. I fought back the urge to scream. Someone istrying to kill me. Instead, I charged across the street. A car screeched, and I veered around it as another braked in front of me. I kept moving and rolled across the bonnet.
Got to keep going. Just keep—
Someone screamed.
Bang!
Bang! Bang!
There were more cries. A shop window exploded into shards. A man clutched his stomach and toppled to the sidewalk.
No!
But I couldn't stop. If they were prepared to shoot a complete stranger, then they'd kill me without hesitation.
Sprinting up the sidewalk, I found a narrow alley between the buildings. I raced down it, reached the other end, and gazed in both directions. Left or right? It made no difference because I had no clue where I was. I just had to put distance between myself and the people chasing me.
The street was congested. Starting to cross, I paused between two trucks. It had been just after three on the clock in the hotel room. That meant I was in the middle of the afternoon rush hour.
What city this could be, I wasn't sure, but I thought it was Manhattan. Some signage on the shops looked distinctly New York in style. I lingered between the trucks. The traffic wasn't moving, but among the chugging, I heard a high-pitched whine.
A girl on a motorcycle stopped in front of me. Slim, dressed in black jeans and a leather jacket, a helmet obscured her face. Her eyes met mine.
'Get on!' she snapped.
'What?'
'Get on! I'll get you out of here.'
I stared at her, undecided. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted three muscle-bound men rounding a corner. They were all dressed in matching tank tops and jeans. One of them grasped a handgun.
I looked back at the girl.
Trust no one.
Turning my back on her, I weaved through the cars and raced down another narrow alley. It suddenly occurred to me that the book was still in my back pocket. That man entrusted it to me. Slowing, I spotted a gap in the brickwork near the bottom of a wall. I slide the book in. Yes. Not only did it fit, but the color of the spine blended perfectly with the red bricks.
The end of the alley opened out onto an empty patch of road and a river. I was right. This is Manhattan. I was sure of it. At least I knew my location. My name is Axel, and I'm in Manhattan. I felt calmer for all of five seconds before I heard the squeal of brakes.
A truck came screaming up the street.
I raced up the sidewalk, but within seconds it had pulled up beside me. Half a dozen thugs leaped out. One tackled me to the ground. I screamed for help, but there was no one in sight.
'No!' I yelled. 'No. Please—'
They dragged me into the van. Something hit me hard just above my right ear, and my world turned black.