Getaway Car [HS]

Chapter Forty-Nine

As she is shoving the door open and getting out of the car, he doesn't know what to do other than follow her orders and remain in her shadow, breaking into a run behind her as she weaves in and out between people crossing the road with little on her mind other than survival. A man in the car behind their abandoned one shouts at them from leaving it in the middle of the road, but neither of them cares to respond.

The impact of their bodies smashing into other people's leave behind aches that they know will transform into gnarly bruises should they escape the day with their lives and live on another week, and she cries out at the feeling of her bare arm scraping against the brick wall to her left as a large man shoves her for trying to squeeze between him and his wife.

All it takes is a fist to the jaw for him to fall to the ground, and there Harry is, shaking his hand at his side and grabbing onto her arm with the other to yank her up to her feet. He drags her along behind him, forcing her to match his rapid pace through the crowd that is now parting to allow them through after witnessing him knock out the man who put his hands on her. It kills him that he can't do anything more than a single punch. Typically, he'd daydream about cutting off the hands of anyone who hurt her, but it isn't a priority at the moment.

He turns them into a narrow alleyway that leads to the next street over, but he guides her to go in front first just in case the cops catch up with them from behind and start to shoot. Halfway through, she stops.

"Keep going!" he shouts, looking back over his shoulder, but she doesn't budge.

"Wait," she turns and gestures toward the wall where a rusted metal ladder leads up to the roof, "Come on, let's go up. All the buildings are connected, we can just run up there until we get away from the crowds and get back down."

Without waiting for his agreement, she starts to climb up the ladder as quickly as she can. The rusted rungs groan beneath her weight the entire way up, so much so that she has a fleeting fear that one of them may break and send her crashing to the ground beneath at any second, but none of them do. Based on the sound of feet and hands tapping metal, Harry isn't far behind when she pulls herself up over the edge of the roof and stumbles down onto it, and when she looks over the edge, he's already reached the top.

She asks, breathless, "Ready?"

All he does is nod.

From building to building, they run as fast as their bodies will allow. Climbing up and down between the different heights of the roofs lining the crowded streets, she feels herself near to passing out from exhaustion beneath the direct path of the sun. Even in early December, running for minutes on end without a single cloud to provide coverage is a fast track to overexertion. By the time they reach the end of the street where the final building drops off into an intersection without connecting to the house situated on the street next to it, she falls to her knees.

Every breath is a struggle at this point. Her hand cradles her lower stomach for reasons she isn't fully sure why as she pants and allows herself to rest her face against the side of the small wall bordering the roof. She suspects it might have something to do with soothing herself. Or the baby. It isn't something she does on purpose to draw attention to the fact that she's carrying a child, it's an unconscious gesture she's started doing ever since last night. Everything they have endured in the past twenty-four hours hasn't been easy for her, let alone them, and it helps to calm her when she touches there. It helps remind her why she's still going, trying to beat the odds that are stacked against them as high as a skyscraper.

Harry's hands grab onto her shoulders, rubbing up and down her arms.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Are you okay? Are y'gonna throw up?"