Two and Three

The neighbors had to hear all that...right?

The man had a dark colored van parked in the rear lot between the wall and dumpster where it couldn't be seen from the street. At gunpoint, Tony was forced to bind Abbie's wrists and ankles, and as a last act of defiance, he only looped the knot, knowing that if, if, she gathered her senses enough to stop hallucinating about last year's state championship, she would be able to wriggle her way out and maybe...

He wasn't sure what she could do, even if she could escape her bindings. She was only partially awake when the man made Tony lift her off the floor and carry her to the van. Even though her mind seemed to be clearing a little --you know, Lisha doesn't hate you, she just likes someone else -- he could still feel her blood soaking into his shirt with every step he took.

The man strode past Tony almost regally and yanked one of the back doors on the van open. "Get in, both of you," he growled and waved the gun in younger guy's face.

How about no...

Before Tony could decide whether he would make it if he dropped everything and ran, a deranged scream echoed out from the inside of the truck. The man with the gun didn't have time to react as the other back door slammed open against the side and Ian launched himself from the van.

The trumpet player let out a strangled, "Tony! Abbie! Run!" As his weight sent both him and the masked crusader crashing to the ground.

A thousand thoughts ran through Tony's head as he watched Ian wrestle the gunman under the dim street lights. Their fight kicked up dust and gravel, which made it difficult to figure out who was winning. He glanced down at Abbie who was shifting in and out of consciousness every moment or so. He couldn't run with her like this....

He couldn't leave her either.

Argh.

"Sorry, I'll make it up to you, okay," Tony whispered hurriedly as he carefully set her down by his feet.

It was probably his imagination making use of the adrenaline, but he could have sworn she muttered back,"You better."

"Go now! Run!" Ian yelled, throwing another fist into the man's face. He had somehow managed to remove the mask in the struggle, but it was still too dark for Tony to make out much. "Go!"

"Going," he replied and dashed down the street as fast as his converse would take him --which wasn't quite as fast as sneakers unfortunately. The band director said not to wear converse to practice. Why did he wear converse to practice? What kind of sick sense of humor did Karma have to make his redemption, this.

On the best of days, Tony wasn't what one could call a fast runner, or fast...or a runner. Sure he could lug around a bass drum just as well as the last guy (and all the guys before and after him), but he never put any speed into it, nor did he have to in most cases. But now it was just him and the road -- and the gun guy wrestling his man the trumpet player, behind the restaurant. Suddenly all he could think about was getting out of there as quick as possible.

Not enough lamp posts were put between them before Tony heard a strangled cry echo out from back near the van.

Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back.

It took everything Tony had not to look over his shoulder and figure out who screamed. If tv and movies ever taught him anything, it was not to look back. Already his chest was heaving from exhaustion. His very breaths screamed loudly in his ears as they turned wheezier and wheezier with each foot he gain.

"Don't look back. Don't look baaaack," he nervously sang to the tune of the current year's ballad. Please, he thought up the sky, although who he was trying to contact, he wasn't exactly sure. Please. Please let me get out of this. I promise I'll exercise more and I'll drink less. Ill stop hitting on Lisha, she likes someone else anyway. Just let me get out of here...

He watched the sky as he ran. He wasn't sure what it was about it that made the long treads easier, but somehow looking towards the moon distracted him from what his legs were avidly protesting.

What do you see in the sky? Lisha had asked him on night after rehearsal.

Tony had looked up and of course his reply was something great like,"birds." He didn't understand the mixed look the sax player gave him after that, but she left well enough alone and ceased to bring it up again.

"I see, I see....see...redemption," he wheezed between breaths. Tony turned his gaze down from the sky and saw what would have had him smiling if he wasn't already panting like a dog. "Hope too, if that helps."

It was just a corner of an intersection; a where street met street, but if he could just get out of the line of the restaurants front entrance, he could find someone working late and demand to call the police. And if worse came to worse, he could just run to the police. The station was just a mile off. Sure it was a mile he hadn't bothered running since fifth grade, but tonight he would make an exception to that particular rule.

Tony was almost at the end of the street when he heard the blast for the second time that night. The sound was accompanied by three more sharp bangs, the last of which shook Tony's entire frame. A strangled cry left his mouth as his next step sent him crashing to the ground. His momentum had carried him another several feet, stripping several layers of skin from both his forearms, and down his left cheek as his head ground against the cement.

For a moment he just laid there in the middle of road and let his entire body scream. Of all the agonies, a burning sensation in the back of his lower right leg, had him gasping the most. He forced himself onto his side, faintly hearing the sound of heavy footsteps over the race of his blood. Past the blinding pain, Tony could just barely grasp the feeling of his jeans clinging to the back of his leg. He'd been shot.

A dark shadow blocked out all the street lamps as the man came to tower over the high school student. "You can't run from me."

But Tony wasn't listening. All he could concentrate on was the sky and how he was wrong about it. It wasn't spouting fair tales of hope -- nor redemption for that matter. If anything, the sky was pulling a face and laughing manically as he pulled any hopes of a future just beyond the reach of Tony's groping fingertips.

[Edited]