BULLET-CITY

Part-12

     Wading through downtown streets was one thing, however, running through schoolyards during recess and climbing over backyard fences was another. After each garden and playground, Vince counted to himself, trying to match their coordinants from memory. They came to a long stretch of sidewalk, which was followed by a large steep hill. More police sirens echoed through the nearby streets. Vince pulled Laura down again and looked around.

     "Ugh! Why do you keep doing that?" complained Laura.

     "Shhhh!" Vince put one finger to her lips.

     Laura's eyes and mouth opened wide in surprise as she began wiping her lips frantically.

     "Did you just touch my mouth and 'shoosh' me?"

     He was physically and mentally exhausted, but Vince knew if they could get to his apartment before the cops did he would be able to get in and out with what he needed. However, if they were too late his place would be crawling with blue bloods and the FBI.

     "Come on, let's go," he said.

     Laura reluctantly sat back down on the ground and folded her arms. The unexpected movement almost pulled Vince off his feet.

     "I'm tired and I can't walk anymore in these heels"

     Vince growled again and looked up. Dark clouds were drifting closer to them from the horizon. Dark clouds meant rain, rain meant getting wet, and wet meant becoming even more miserable. Vince decided he had had it. After several unsuccessful attempts to light a cigarette, he just kept it in his mouth. Mustering up all the energy he had, he stooped down and pulled up on the handcuff. Laura, who was now playing with the flap of her broken high heel, was unwillingly swept to her feet. Abruptly, Vince knelt down, grabbed Laura behind the knees, and pulled her onto his back. With all of the strength he could muster, he made a mad dash for the steep hill.

     Shocked and annoyed, Laura began pressing all of her weight onto him in an attempt to slow him down. When that didn't work, she began hitting him with her broken shoe. Many passersby who noticed the commotion left it alone, figuring it was just another crazy couple causing another domestic disturbance. Others, however, took pictures and videos with their phones and texted their friends. A few teenagers walking by began to laugh.

     Each time Laura wound up to swing, she was simultaneously pulling Vince's hand as well. The chain reaction resulted in Vince reluctantly slapping himself in the face over and over and flattening the cigarette hanging from his lip.

     "Control yourself, woman!" yelled Vince between blows to the head.

     They were almost up the hill. Vince's legs burned and sweat poured down his face. Suddenly, a sharp pain ran through Vince's neck. She had bitten him!

     Vince did not notice the slight dip in concrete. The flap from Vince's old high top caught the dip, and sent them both sailing through the air and landing on their butts at the top of the hill.

     Vince and Laura stared at each other for a moment, both stunned at what had just happened. Vince stood up first and began another failed attempt to light another cigarette.

     "Sheesh lady, are you made of bricks," he said, rubbing his tailbone.

     "Ugh!," retorted Laura. "These are Bella-Allegra  shoes imported from Italy. You owe me $700! Where do you think you're going anyways?"

     "First of all, this 'Bella Del Taco' guy isn't a very good cobbler, or else your shoes wouldn't have broken so easily. Secondly, you should be grateful, I just saved your life back there. And if you must know, we are heading to my apartment so I can get my spare gun, knife, and handcuff keys to detach myself from you!"

     Laura snickered sarcastically as she looked him up and down.

     "Okay. First off, who uses the word 'cobbler' anymore? And second, what would you even know about fashion, you look ridiculous in those high tops!"

     There was another moment of silence as they each stared at each other. Laura let out an audible sigh as she stuck her nose in the air and rolled her eyes.

     "FIIIINEE!" Laura Drew out the word so Vince would know how frustrated she was. "If you must know, my apartment is two blocks over, we can hide out there for a while and figure out what we should do."

     Vince opened his mouth to cut in and disagree, but Laura continued.

     "Think about it. Those cops know exactly who you are. If we go back to your place that is the first place they'll look. They don't know who I am yet, so until they figure that out it will buy us some time."

     Vince was thoroughly impressed, but refused to show it. Instead, he silently stared at her for a moment blinking rapidly.

     "Well why didn't you say so in the first place?"

     Laura, stepped closer to Vince's face, "because I didn't want a creepy guy like you knowing where I live! That's why!"

     There was silence again as they both stared at each other. Vince turned away and started moving quickly up the street, dragging Laura behind.

     "Where are you going now?"

     "To your house of course. I'm starving."

     Vince lifted one of his arms and inhaled quickly. "Whew! And I could probably use a shower too, I think I'm pretty ripe."
Laura contorted her face and scrunched her nose at the thought. No way was this animal coming anywhere near her shower, let alone eating any of her food...

                                                                                                                    --

     Bruce dialed, his sweaty palms making the punching of numbers increasingly difficult. He slicked back his hair and, putting the phone between his cheek and shoulder loaded a 45. The man on the other end picked up.

     "Yes, what do you want?" said the low dry voice. The man's Russian accent was unmistakable.

     "I got your money right here."

     "Anyone left?" the voice said.

     "...Not exactly, sir."

     The man on the phone was silent, but his silence was all it took to scare the living daylights out of anybody.

     "There was one, uh, well actually two witnesses."

     "Names?" the man said.

     "A woman named Laura Jacobs. She's one of my interns. The other was some dead-beat cop. I think he's the one who blew up the bank the other day." Bruce began to fiddle with the .45 again.

     "Kill them or no one lives."

     The man abruptly hung up the phone. Bruce slicked back his hair and cocked the gun. He knew exactly were to go first.