Titan

Belief and Jim McNulty's Fate

            Jim's heart was ready to burst. If he ran another step, he believed he would die. At the academy, the cadets ran and did calisthenics and physical training, every morning at six o'clock. Jim could run for miles without rest.

But today was different. He had been running on adrenaline and his engines were tapped out. Sweating, panting, and clutching onto a blue Post Office collection box, Jim tried not to pass out. He had never run so hard in his life. He was only thankful to be free from his kidnappers. Yeah, he could call them that now; the fog had lifted from his mind. It scared him to dwell too much on what they ultimately wanted him for, but it all slipped from his mind when he fled. The primary objective was ESCAPE.

The Eisenhower Avenue sign confirmed what Jim suspected in the final leg of his suicidal sprint. Even though he was operating on flight instinct, intuitively he had changed streets a few times to make it harder to follow him. Frankly, now that he had a little time to think, Jim wasn't sure how he had made it to Eisenhower Avenue. It ran parallel to Duke Street, which ran parallel to King Street for a time, but Eisenhower was a good distance away from Old Town proper. Jim guessed that he'd run about two miles.

Eisenhower split evenly between businesses and upscale homes. Jim was near businesses and warehouses, so he figured that he was close to Van Dorn Street, a major thoroughfare in the area. It was also close to where he lived, 1701 Cranberry Boulevard. But that would be the first place they looked. He couldn't go home. Not yet.

The most important thing was to find a cop or a phone. Finding both would be perfect. Getting off the street was just as important. The soldiers couldn't know where he had gone, but just being in the open made him feel vulnerable. He'd seen the Colonel's helicopter and his men were military; they could fly around the D.C. area with impunity.

They were very secretive, though... maybe no one knows what they're doing. Maybe they're not military...

These thoughts had occurred to Jim before, but they didn't seem likely. He'd been trying to rationalize everything that had happened: the injections, what they knew about him and Eric, his midnight flight, the shady hangar in the middle of nowhere... Jim had actually believed them. Eric was sick and they wanted to help. All the guns and hardware... well, that was just for security. It was all clearer now. If Eric was sick and very contagious, why wouldn't they have more men? Jim's flight hadn't been full. He had seen maybe twenty five or thirty men and that included the commander, the Shadow Man.

Him...

The Shadow Man frightened Jim more than he cared to admit. He seemed to know everything. He was calm. But it was a façade. There was something underneath. Jim felt it. Jim caught glimpses throughout the days he'd been with the Colonel. Whatever it was, Jim didn't want to see it. It felt evil. Of course, it was just a feeling and Jim was on edge. He still didn't want to discover what was behind the man's mask, though. Nope. No siree.

There was a shipping company on his right. Around back he saw package trucks and moving equipment. It was quiet now. It had to be close to eight o'clock now and the sun was under the horizon. Jim hesitated to break in, but he figured it would be an easy way to get police attention and find a phone. A rock beside the path leading up to the door provided a good way to do the deed. He hurled the rock through the front door's window. The top half crashed inward. No alarm went off. It was probably silent.

Jim climbed in and took a moment to get oriented. The lights were off. Street lights and the moon's glow provided the only illumination. It cast his shadow over the room like a hulking monster. He shuddered. Jim didn't feel like himself. Everything felt surreal.