The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,12
he pulled the duffle bag off his shoulder and tossed it to the side of the road. He hoped ditching his only possessions would free himself up to run faster.
Turning up his speed, he dashed onto another road and ran down it as fast as possible to finally get away. But before he could lose his pursuers, a large crowd of people began to file out of a museum. The bodies were densely packed; Landon had no chance of getting through. It was an impenetrable wall of camera-bearing, fanny-pack-wearing tourists. Skidding to a halt, Landon turned to go back the way he came, but the suited men had crossed the street and moved closer and closer to him. He turned around to find the stream of tourists continuing with no end in sight. Again he spun around, the suited men were mere yards away. With the time leading to his capture ticking to an end and no option in sight, Landon bolted toward the road. He took two steps toward the busy street, noticing the small break in the traffic and for a moment Landon was filled with hope. However, that hope quickly turned to surprise as he felt his foot slip off the curb.
Suddenly, he was having an out-of-body experience. He watched as his body tumbled into the street. He watched the arms of the suited men as they reached out to catch him while continuing to run up the sidewalk, too far away to be of any assistance. He watched as his body flew in front of a parked red convertible. He even had enough time to watch as the black asphalt came toward him.
Once his injured shoulder struck the ground, time seemed to pick back up to its normal speed. He tumbled past the line of parallel-parked cars and rolled into the open lanes of traffic. He laid there, his chest heaving and his face cringing. Pain from his shoulder seared through his body, but slowly the sound of a deep horn forced its way through the pain. It stopped and then picked up again. It was loud and deafening. Landon raised his head to see a city bus coming straight at him. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He was frozen in place, paralyzed by the sight of Death as it came roaring toward him. Exhausted and with no time to get out of the way, Landon braced himself for impact, surrendering himself to his fate.
The horn got louder and louder as the bus sped toward Landon’s waiting body. In a last-ditch effort to protect himself, Landon’s whole body tensed up, he raised his hands toward the oncoming bus, and closed his eyes. Landon was out of time.
He sat there for what seemed like minutes waiting for the bus to strike. It was so close when he closed his eyes—it should have hit him by now. What happened? Landon could still hear the horn but it wasn’t coming toward him anymore. It sounded as if it was . . . behind him? Perplexed, Landon opened one of his eyes to see what happened.
In the direction of the oncoming bus, all Landon now saw was a line of stopped cars. He noticed the face of the man behind the wheel of a little compact car. His eyes were strained, his mouth gaped open, and he gripped the steering wheel so tight that even the little muscles in his hands were bulging. Landon looked to the left and saw the suited men and tourists standing along the road looking at him in horror.
To the right, pedestrians had stopped. People seemed to be taking pictures of him with their cameras and mobile phones. Others were pointing. He heard the constant roaring of the crowd as numerous conversations took place along both sides of the street. Thinking he was safe, Landon opened his other eye and then he heard something else. It was a fast hum and reminded him of the sound his fan made as it spun round and round on his ceiling at the highest speed.
Then Landon noticed some of the people weren’t looking at him, but more so above him. He jerked his head upward and was met with a roof of metal. Grimy steel pipes ran along it and large dirty tanks seemed to be attached with thin metal stripping. Landon gasped once he realized there were four wheels spinning rapidly overhead, creating the strange humming sound. Is that the bus? That’s impossible!