Deadly Secrets

Chapter 8: Mystery Man

[Revised] 

Keep it together.

Breathing was no longer a reflex action. It was something that Zara had to do consciously, lips parted, eyes agape. She was petrified, in every sense of the word. If she remained invisible, part of the background, would that fool him into leaving?

Zara stared blindly into the abyss below her, waiting for something, anything, to happen.

"I know you're in here somewhere. You won't be able to hide forever."

The deep voice gave Zara a sudden jolt—the rusty ladder trembled underneath her.

A split second later, a bang. The bullet ricocheted off the rung with a spark, only an inch away from Zara's hand. She ripped it away, screaming. Almost instantly, Zara began scrambling up the ladder. She had given herself away yet again. The umpteenth mistake would cost Zara her life.

She made it up the first flight, then pulled herself up to the next one. A second shot followed her, then a third. Zara soon lost count of the number of rounds fired; blood roared in her ears, muting her surroundings.

Zara sprung onto the third platform, then stumbled towards the edge. Against better judgement, she leaned over the railing, hands wrapped around it in a death grip.

The man still hadn't given up!

Using her same method, the bastard had managed to clamber onto the first platform. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. How did he do it? He was larger, much larger than Zara. The dumpster lid should've given away underneath him, not serve as a springboard for his demoniacal intentions!

This is a sick, sick joke, Jesus.

Hurling herself over the railing, and smashing her head against the ground now seemed attractive. At least, she would have the last laugh because she would die on her terms, not his.

No. Don't be a coward.

Even if he snapped her like a toothpick, she would have still tried, still would have fought for her life. Zara would give him a hard time till the very end until death was upon her.

She pushed herself away from the edge and jumped onto the ladder, conviction her only driving force. Gritting her teeth, Zara used what little energy she had left to speed up her ascent.

Before she knew it, she had made it.

Her arms throbbed as she lifted herself onto the rooftop, the asphalt cold and grainy underneath her palms. Zara lifted her head. The urban sky was bright and unforgiving, in defiance of the time of night, so she squinted against it. With a quick sweep of her gaze, she took in the bleakness of her environment. Beside a forest of satellite dishes was the ventilation and heating equipment scattered haphazardly around her.

The sight beyond the rooftop was blocked by other residential buildings, three of which were a couple of floors taller than the one on which she stood. She started to run, in the direction of the fourth.

Maybe I can jump it.

At first glance, it didn't seem like too much of a stretch.

When she reached the edge, however, her stomach sank.

The buildings were a good distance apart, about the length of a one-lane road. She peered down into the empty street, anxiously gnawing on her bottom lip. Not even a run-up would give her the momentum to get all the way to the other side. Attempting it would be suicide.

She turned, her focus shifting on a different escape route.

I need to get into the building somehow. They should have an entrance up here—

Her gaze landed on the roof dog house. Behind it, she saw her attacker's head sprout from the fire escape.

Without a moment's hesitation, she began to run towards it, praying that it was left unlocked. If she successfully made it in, then it would be over. Once locked, she couldn't be followed inside.

She ran as fast as she could, but her eyes widened in horror when she saw the man doing the same, towards her. He pulled out the gun from his holster, yelling profanities and death threats. Zara did not heed his warnings.

At the door, she attempted to push down the bronze handle, but it wouldn't bulge. She shouldered it, hoping that the lock was rusty and would give away, but to no avail. It was immovable.

Zara sunk to her knees, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Game over.

She squeezed her eyes shut and banged an enraged fist against the door. Zara cursed everyone and everything. The world for being a godforsaken place, her dead parents for abandoning her, and fate for bringing death to her doorstep. She would die out here, on just another building in New York City. Nobody would know. It wasn't fair.

A blow to the head had Zara collapsing onto her side. Her face made contact against the hard surface, forcing her eyes closed.

"Now you're going to listen to me, you piece of shit," his voice whispered into her ear, a Spanish lilt kissing every syllable, "You're going to tell me what I want to know, or I swear to God, I'll blow your brains out." 

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