The cold air whipped at my face. I pulled my cardigan closer around me, turning to peer down the crowded road behind me.
No sign of him, or anyone. Yet. I knew they would find me, it was just a matter of when.
And how I would escape.
I quickened my pace, coming onto the sidewalk that crosses a bridge. I flinch as police sirens flare up. I look behind me and freeze.
Behind the wheel of a police car, a man stares directly at me, and points his gun at my head.
I scream, "Get down!" And throw myself down as shots ring out. People are screaming and running. I dart to my feet and scramble forward, bumping into shoulders and tripping over feet.
I wince and run faster as the spray of shrapnel hits my uncovered face and hands as bullets ping into the cement walls beside me. I look over the edge, an idea forming in my head.
As the bullets get closer and blood splatters my face from a man who is shot down in front of me, I bring my hands on the ledge and swing my legs over, showing no hesitation.
My hair blocks my vision as I fall, and I gasp, taking in water as the cold liquid surrounds me suddenly.
Bullets swim around me, and I scream as one rips through my left shoulder and my right thigh.
I swim deeper, despite the fact I need air desperately. Help. I call out with my mind. I can't hear their answer. I knew I was too far away from any of them. I was in California. There weren't any free crocodiles here.
But as my mind fell into darkness, a familiar face swam before me.
