The men carried a large blue tarp as they walked toward Randolph’s corpse.
Kendra strained to get a better look at them. It was impossible to see their faces in the shadows where she stood because of fast-encroaching darkness, so she focused on their builds, gait, hairstyles, and anything else she could gather. The taller man breathed through his front teeth, emitting a slight whistle. The shorter of the two men had long, dark sideburns, and his gait was lithe, graceful.
“I know I heard someone up here,” the smaller man said, his speech clipped. British? “You heard it, too.”
“Don’t know what I heard.” The second man with that whistle had a Southern accent, probably Tennessee Valley. “We just need to get the hell out of here.”
“Wait. Be quiet.”
Both men went still.
Kendra quickly ducked behind the vent.
Mustn’t move.
Mustn’t breathe.
The smaller man finally spoke. “Let me check something. His phone kept going off.”
Kendra heard the rustling of fabric and the crumpling plastic tarp as she imagined him kneeling over their fresh kill.
After a long moment, he finally spoke. “Kendra Michaels!”
She jerked and felt an icy chill. But he was only reading the caller ID screen on the dead man’s phone.
“She called over and over again, Kendra Michaels. Three times in four minutes.” He called out, “Is that you we heard up here, Kendra?”
She held her breath.
“I think it was!” His voice dropped to a menacing purr. “And you’re still here.”
She cocked her head. Footsteps.
They were on the move. The men had separated, searching the rooftop for her. It was only a matter of time before they—
RING-RING-RING-RING-RING!
Her phone, still in her hand, blasted the ringtone. The call had come from the dead man’s phone.
The man with the sideburns had redialed her. They now knew exactly where she was.
“Over there!” he yelled.
She got one clear, brief glance at the faces of both men as they ran toward her.
Shit!
She tossed her phone, leaped to her feet, and bolted across the rooftop. They were already close and gaining on her.
She only remembered seeing one rooftop exit into the building, and it was behind her.
Keep running.
Keep pushing.
Keep thinking.
Another fire escape! Just ahead!
The footsteps pounded louder.
Shit.
The edge of the fire escape loomed only yards away.
But she couldn’t see what was beyond the edge. She didn’t know if there were actually steps, or if she’d be jumping into nothingness.
No time to stop. No thinking it through.
Just take the shot.
She leaped over the edge and landed hard on the metal stairs of the fire escape four feet down.
BAM!
Damn, that hurt.
She rolled over and flew down the stairs of the fire escape, searching frantically for an entry point into the building.
She passed window after window blocked by a rigid metal mesh, until she finally stepped down…into nothingness. The dilapidated fire escape simply ended…and left her dangling four stories above the concrete below!
She frantically gripped the handrail, trying to regain her footing.
BAM! BAM!
The men jumped onto the fire escape above her. They’d be on her in seconds.
Down, there was only pavement. To her right, the impenetrable windows. To the left…
She took a deep breath. To her left, there was another building. Another abandoned factory, another fire escape, and dozens of accessible windows.
At least seven feet away. Could she make it?
The men’s footsteps clanged on the metal fire escape above her.
She had to make it. But she needed a running start.
She followed the fire escape around the front corner of the building. There she had an eight-foot straightaway to build up some speed before going airborne.
She turned to face the other building. That seven-foot abyss looked even farther from here. This was insane.
But it was more insane to stay here and risk getting her throat cut like Randolph.
She crouched in a sprinter’s position and got ready. She raised her chin.
Raised her chin? As if that would keep her from splatting on the sidewalk below?
The men were getting closer.
She couldn’t wait any longer. She just had to do it.
Time to fly.
Kendra ran with all the speed she could muster, then launched herself from the very edge of the fire escape with all her force and strength. Dear God, let it be enough.
For a few seconds she felt as if she were lost in a bizarre dream.
Wind slapping against her cheeks.
Her pursuers yelling curses behind her.
The odor of decades-old shipyard oil catching in her throat.
SMASH. She hit the neighboring catwalk, rolled, and shattered the factory window with her right shoulder. She rolled back, trying to avoid the glass guillotines