light passed over her again, her face was the color of beetroot and her eyes bulged. He couldn’t leave her.
Damn it. Michael let go of the cold handle, took a deep breath, and ran at the man holding Lola. He swung for him, his wrist stinging as his wet punch connected with what felt like the man’s ear.
The flashlight turned on the man, who let go of Lola and grabbed the side of his head where Michael had hit him. “What the fuck?”
Back at the door, Michael pushed the handle down and threw it open. As he sped out, he called, “Come on, Lola.”
Although he didn’t look around, he heard footsteps behind him. The door then crashed into one of their pursuers, and the man screamed. Lola must have slammed it on him.
With Lola on his tail, Michael ran to the bent shutter. One of the men roared. There was a loud thud and crash as one of the men kicked the door open and it hit the wall.
Without breaking stride, Michael ducked through the gap created by the bent shutter and crawled into the street. He glanced up and down the deserted road. The rain still fell. The library still burned on the horizon.
The desire to sprint twitched through him as he watched the gap. “Come on, Lola, hurry up.”
Her head appeared, and Michael went to her. She was halfway through when a large hand reached out and wrapped around her mouth. Her eyes flew wide as the hand then pulled and her head snapped back from the action.
Lola’s eyes went from wide to squinting. The hand disappeared suddenly and yet another deep roar came from one of the men.
“Did you just bite him?” Michael asked.
Preoccupied with trying to get out of the shop, Lola didn’t reply.
Michael reached down, gripped beneath her arms, and pulled her free from the hole.
Falling backward with her, he crashed onto the hard ground and a frigid jolt ran up his spine. They’d fallen into a cold puddle and the water soaked straight through his clothes.
Lola got to her feet first. “Come on, Michael, we’ve got to go; now!”
The head of one of the men appeared at the hole.
Clenching her teeth, Lola swung a kick that connected with the man’s face with a wet thwack. The man’s head clattered into the metal shutter above him.
Michael got to his feet and followed after Lola, who ran off up the street.
As they ran, Michael looked behind. The man Lola had kicked lay limp, blocking the other man’s exit.
Just before they vanished around the bend, headlights appeared at the opposite end of the road.
Michael froze and it took him a second to catch his breath enough to speak. “It’s the men from the bridge.” His pulse raged. “We need to get the fuck away from here now.”
House Guests
The cold air burned Michael’s lungs as he ran. With the adrenalin from the escape dying down, the pain in his damaged ankle returned. He stumbled to the side when he put pressure on it and nearly fell. It was no good. He pulled up. Linking his fingers behind his head, he opened his mouth wide and fought to get air into his body. Every exhalation created a huge puff of condensation.
Fortunately, Lola noticed and stopped too; he didn’t have the breath to call after her.
As she walked back toward him with a swagger, she looked him up and down. “What’s up, Nearly Eleven?”
Michael bent forward and rested his hands on his knees, his navel pulling up into his ribcage as he gasped. He couldn't speak, so he shook his head instead.
When he looked up, Lola continued to stare at him. He spoke between breaths. “I need… to… stop.” He took in several more breaths and continued, “I can’t go any… farther. My ankle feels like it’s… going to… give way, and I’m going to puke.”
When he received no reply, he looked up again to see Lola swipe her sodden hair away from her face. The rain continued to fall hard. “Fine!”
Terraced houses lined either side of the road. Like all of the other buildings in the city, the windows spoke only of the darkness behind them. There could be anything lurking in the shadows.
Lola removed her jacket and wrapped it around her hand as she walked toward one of the houses. When she hopped over the front wall, Michael checked up and down the street. There was no one there, or at least no one he could see. He