Here in the Second Moon

Chapter 4: Running from the Light

Emma's POV

I felt completely exposed and trapped with my foot under that piece of metal trash. I noticed people looking at the whole scene with horror, while others murmured with each other. There was even a guy taking pictures of the whole sight... how sick is that! I supposed nobody wanted to help an arrested individual who could easily do something to them in return. At first I tried to get my foot unstuck myself, due to the fact that I was running away from the law and all. But the harder I tried, the more difficult it became. My wrists where already being burned from the handcuffs motion every time I tried to do something with my hands. I looked around one more time to make sure there were no cops cleaning the wreck, and then I cried for help.

I saw a boy about my age coming to the rescue, which initially was a relief, but then, as he came closer, I realized it was my psico classmate who killed his parents. I looked at him with repulsion, as if he had some sort of decease.

- Emma? Emma Wright? - He said, while I unbelievably realized he knew me more than I knew him.

- Do I know you? –I said to him in an almost scandalous way.

- I'm Michael Clifford, we see each other at school all the time; in history and math- he said, realizing that I had no idea who he was. Then he gave me a mocking chuckle, like those ironic smiles that people give you when they're tired of your behavior.

-Oh, yes, of course! –I said to him, while he was already hands-on trying to move the debris away from my stock foot. Then I noticed something... he had handcuffs just like me. How can he still have handcuffs if I saw the news hours ago about his arrest? It would have most taken the police hours to process his crime scene in order to still be on his way to the precinct. Something was fishy about the whole situation, but it seemed to me I had to find out some other time.

He was having trouble lifting things up with a pair of hands tied to each other, so we kind of decided to work together as two pairs of hands would, in order to be more efficient at running away.

-See that dark alley, right there, next to that sandwich place? –He suspiciously said in a low voice.

-Let's try to run and hide there, so people wouldn't see our faces so much, on the count of three, ready? –By then, we already successfully were able to lift the weight off my foot.

-Wait! –I interrupted.

-What about these? –I said pointing at the handcuffs. We needed those keys, and there wasn't going to be a cop so close to us anytime soon after this moment.

-You're right –he said, looking around to see where the closest unconscious cop was.

-Right there! Next to the sidewalk! – The second police car was also completely destroyed, with no sign of life. We had to get the keys from that disgusting scene, and then keep running to the alley.

I tried getting up, but my foot was so swore that I wasn't able to run. It wasn't broken though. It was a familiar feeling. Right before one of those cross country races I use to participate in, I was coming out of the school bus and bended my foot on the stairs. It was a sprain ankle. I just had to rest it out. It would have been disastrous and a reason for an afternoon tantrum, but I grew up and out of it in a matter of an afternoon. Right now, I didn't have the luxury of expressing my emotions because my life was at stake.

I feared he was just going to let me there. We were talking too long, and in any given moment, we were going to be surrounded by all sorts of emergency vehicles. But instead of doing what I thought would be classic bad guy behavior, he looked at me and said:

-Do you need a lift? –He had this funny smile, almost like if he was eager to help.

-You don't mind? The police would be here any minute –I had to be reasonable with him, but apparently he had better things to do than to save his own skin.

-You're gonna have to help me, though, I can't lift you up with my hands tied like this- So I pushed myself up his arms and he ran to the alley while I held on to his neck for my dear life. I felt safe in his arms, even though I didn't know if he was as guilty as the broadcaster put him on TV, or as innocent as me and Jake.

He was big and strong for his age, teachers where usually sitting him on the back because he was so tall and so quiet. I was always sitting in the front, I'm small and talkative, you see. Maybe that's why we never started a proper conversation. But it was also the very reason why it was so easy for him to carry me in his arms.