Chasing Impossible

by Katie McGarry

  “I’m two blocks from the club.”

  Eric turns his head, his mouth moves and from behind him, two of his boys join his side. Neither of them has a problem hitting a girl. Neither has a problem with raping one, either.

  “Do you think you could speed? Break some traffic laws? Maybe tell me your truck is secretly a hovercraft? That would be greatly appreciated.”

  Eric’s boys stride in my direction and I cross the street without looking. A car blows its horn, a screech of tires, but I’m sprinting, not paying attention to the moving bullets on wheels.

  “Abby!” Logan growls. “What’s going on?”

  A hurried glance over my shoulder and Eric’s boys follow. My mind races and wars between thoughts. Find Logan, don’t lead Logan into trouble, duck into a club, but I don’t have my fake ID. He’s two blocks away and my mouth dries out. Logan’s so close yet too far.

  A shadow steps in front of me, a person in a hoodie. Adrenaline in the form of fear, my hand reaches back, switchblade in my fingers, but he’s faster than me. He grabs hold of my arm, I go to bite his wrist and then—

  “Do that and I’ll fucking shoot you. I’m the reason you’re still alive. It’s me who sent the code.”

  I convulse with the familiar voice. Linus releases me with a shove then yanks back his hoodie. The joy of seeing my father’s protégé nearly brings me to my knees.

  Linus steals my phone, powers it off, then snatches my arm and drags me into an alley. “Ricky told you to stay off the streets tonight.”

  “He told me not to sell.” I trip over a can as he continues to pull me deeper into the darkness. A right and a left. A maze of passages. I’ve been here before, during the day, and I’m completely lost without the light.

  “Same fucking thing and now you’ve got Eric hunting you, plus you met with a narc tonight. And we thought you were smart.”

  “You knew he was a narc and nobody warned me one was on the streets?”

  Linus doesn’t say anything and I can’t stop the smugness trying to rip past the fear.

  “You didn’t know until I figured him out.”

  “I’d suggest shutting the fuck up.”

  Shutting the fuck up doesn’t make me less right. “What the hell are you doing sending me that code? Even Ricky doesn’t know about it. That code means I can’t trust anyone.”

  “Except the one who sent it, right?” Linus halts his progress forward and rounds on me. He’s pure rage wearing human skin, but of all the things I fear, it’s not him. If he was going to kill me, he would have already plugged two shots into my brain.

  He’s ruthless like that. My father was his mentor and my father taught him well. Where I’ve memorized my father’s rules, Linus plays by them as if they’re the Ten Commandments handwritten on stone by God.

  “Some of Ricky’s guys were in the bar,” I say, “and you 911’d me out. You don’t think I would have been safer there?”

  Linus remains blizzard cold and my insides sink. “What’s going on?”

  “I know you pegged the narc and I know you haven’t sold. I know you came here because you thought this was neutral territory and it was safe. I know because I’ve been watching you fuck around all night.”

  I quit breathing. “Why?”

  Linus leans into me. “Because Ricky knows you don’t listen and we’ve got shit going down. Empires are going to war, and in the morning, we’ll see who’s still standing, and Ricky wants you on the rise up.”

  I scan Linus’s face, desperate to read him, but he’s closed off. Always closed off—just like my father was. “Eric didn’t start this war, did he?”

  “Eric’s weak and he’s ripe for the taking, but he will try to make us bleed on the way down, taking out as many of our key players as possible.”

  My stomach cramps. “I’m not a key player.”

  “You’re Mozart’s daughter. You could be a crap game piece and you’d still be worth the kill just to piss us off, but besides that—you’re good at this. Shit—you pegged a narc my top guys haven’t sniffed out yet. Except for tonight, you’re smart and what the fuck were you doing tonight?”

  I refuse to shrink from Linus. As much as he tries to act like it, he’s not my father. “I was hanging with friends.”

  Linus appears to grow in size. Let him. He could become the boogeyman and I’d still flip him off. Spit flies out of his mouth as he announces, “We. Don’t. Have. Friends.”

  But I do. My phone buzzes continuously in Linus’s hand. It’s Logan and he’s scared for me. My heart beats hard as I realize how scared I am for him. I’m in the middle of a war and he could be caught in the cross fire. That fear—it’s why I shouldn’t have friends.

  Rule number two: attachments create weakness and your enemies and allies will use your weakness against you.

  A clank of a glass bottle and the sound of it rolling echoes off the walls of the alley. Linus extracts a gun from the back of his jeans and he nods his chin for me to do the same. I extract my switchblade, flick it until we see the fun shiny part and Linus grimaces. “Fucking grow up already and get a real weapon.”

  I won’t carry a gun. I’ll sell pot, but I have no interest in killing.

  “Stay here until I come for you and, in case you’re wondering, that is an order I mean word for word.” He slips my phone back to me. “Text your friend. Tell him to fuck off and hope he does. It ain’t my job to save him. It’s barely my job to save you.”

  He’s right, it’s not, but he made a promise to my father and I’d wager he’s regretting that oath. Linus heads back the way we came and I lean against the warm concrete of the building, permitting my head to hit the wall harder than necessary.

  I strain to hear Linus in the silent alley. Strain to hear anyone or anything. Strain, but all I hear is my pulse pounding in my temples. My blood tingles with fear. I hate fear. I hate what I can’t control.

  Two shots. Loud. Angry. My body flinches. Two more shots and nausea eats me alive. Everyone thinks I’m big, bad and tough, but the sweat that breaks out on the hand holding the switchblade tells a different story.

  I study my surroundings and a lump forms in my throat as I readjust my hold on the blade. I’m trapped—surrounded by three walls, and I exhale to steady my nerves. Calm the fuck down, Abby. Rule number seven: nerves create more problems than the ones you currently have. Learn how to become ice.

  I often wish number seven came with an instructional video.

  Calming thought: Linus is here. But so is Eric and his crew. If Linus is here, then so are possibly more people loyal to Ricky, but I’m a pawn on the chessboard and pawns are typically the first ones sacrificed.

  My phone buzzes again and Logan’s face appears on the screen. I should ignore it. I should text him. I should do a million things, but my hands shake and this sickening fear snakes along my veins.

  I don’t want to die. Another breath out. I don’t want to die tonight.

  I slide down the wall, caving into a crouch, and accept his call. “Logan?”

  “Where are you?” His voice is tight, yet there’s a hint of relief. “There’s all sorts of shit going on. Shots fired. People are running. Screaming to get off the streets. Tell me where you are.”

  “Go home,” I whisper. “Stay in your truck and go home now.”

  “Not without you.”

  My head drops forward. “This isn’t a fucking game. My world is going to hell and you need to leave.”

  More shots and a man yells out in agony. He begs. For his life. Asking for whoever not to do it. Says he has a brother. He has a mother. He says please. He says it a lot. He says it like he’s a scared child. He says it like he means it and tears prick my eyes. I can imagine him—on his knees, his body trembling, staring up at Linus.

  Probably a lot like me when I
collapsed on the ground when I was younger begging God for my world not to be destroyed. How old is he? How old am I? My throat tightens, and my lower lip quivers. This is real. Too real. “Go home, Logan. Go home now.”

  “Jesus, Abby. Where are you?”

  I’m trapped. Bile sloshes in my stomach, and I breathe out hard as I try for cool and calm. “Too far away.”

  “It’s okay, Abby. I’m going to find you, and it’s going to be okay.”

  It’s not. It was going to be, but now it’s not. “We were going to have a lunch table at school, did you know that? I picked it out. It’s a big circle one, by the windows, and it would have had plenty of sun during our lunch break. Rachel and I would have had the seats in the shade and you guys would have sucked it up and dealt with the sun in your eyes. It was going to be me and you and Rachel and that friend of West’s.”

  “Jax?” Logan says like he’s running. “Do you mean Jax?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll have it. Even if I have to arm wrestle someone for it.”

  I choke on the laugh to keep from giving myself away and my eyes burn. “I would have loved to have seen that.”

  “It’s going to happen and when it does, I’ll buy you all the tacos you can eat and then we’ll have quiet. You and me and all the quiet you want. There’s a place near my dad’s. A little brook with a small waterfall. Thought of you last time I was there. There were bunnies.”

  Bunnies. My heart hurts. “You’re just trying to get into my pants.”

  “You figured me out. Are you in the alley, Abby? That’s where people are running to and from. Tell me if you’re in the alley.”

  In the distance, police sirens wail, but they won’t get here fast enough. This will be over soon. Too soon. A dry heave runs up my throat as the images of all I’m leaving behind flash in my mind and I shake my head to ward off the panic. There’s a job to do. A job...a life that’s left undone.

  “Logan, listen to me. 5212 Brook Street. Go there. The back door key’s in the birdhouse in the backyard. Second-floor bathroom, move the towel shelf, pull up the wallpaper, take the door off. You’ll need a screwdriver. There’s an envelope. You’ll know who to give it to. It needs to be done tomorrow. Before 3:00 p.m. Do you understand?”

  “Where are you, Abby?”

  I don’t want to die. Not tonight. Not now. I needed time. Time to make things right. Time to be redeemable. Just time. “There’s enough money in there for a few weeks and after that...”

  I don’t know what comes after that. “Ask Isaiah. He’ll think of something. But only then. He’ll understand. He’ll figure out what to do. He won’t fail me on this.”

  “Stop screwing with me. Are you in the alley?”

  Yes. “Stay out. They’ll shoot whoever enters.”

  A crunching of debris under heavy footsteps and I rub my forehead. It’s not Linus. Linus would have given me a heads-up. I wonder if this is how my dad felt, if this is how my grandmother felt, I wonder if this what everyone feels before they meet death...I wonder if they feel like they’re falling into an endless pit of cold.

  “I’m here,” Logan says. “Just stay with me.”

  He is. God knows he is. Though my knees are weak, I struggle to my feet. I’m Abby. I’m the daughter of Mozart, a legend of the streets. Some people at school call me names. They label me a slut, call me evil. Some call me a killer. But they’re wrong on the last part. They’re wrong on most of it.

  When I’m standing tall, I speak what normally doesn’t come naturally—the truth. “No matter what, I liked you.”

  Logan begins to talk, but I turn off my phone, drop it to the ground and smash it with my foot. I’ll not take down anyone else with me, legally or illegally. Won’t allow my phone to be the trail of bread crumbs. A dark form slowly approaches, the moonlight glinting off the gun.

  He doesn’t see me against the wall, but I’m not stupid enough to think he won’t find me. My slick palm causes a weak grip on my switchblade. That Hunger Games nonsense where the underdog can win with a stick is bullshit. I could try to fight, but I’d rather not be tortured.

  Escape is my only option. Fighting signifies I have a choice and I don’t. Set fates typically end in the cruelest fashion.

  I don’t close my eyes as the shadow inches closer, I only try to imagine what it would have been like to lie in Logan’s truck, listening to a babbling brook and staring at the starlight.

  And bunnies. I would have loved to have seen bunnies.

  Pretty images of a pretty world that doesn’t exist.

  Garbage crackles under his feet in his search for me and intuition causes him to swing in my direction. Adrenaline shoots through my veins, fear floods my mouth, I duck, a shot to the wall behind me, loose rocks cutting my face, my knife slips and the cut into his body misses the mark—off to the side.

  He grunts, I push him away, willing my feet to move faster, willing air to push further into my lungs.

  Then there is another bang and then there is...

  Logan

  I’m running and it’s not fast enough. My shoulder rams into people and they shout at me as I pass, but I don’t care. My cell’s in my hand, next to my ear, and it’s ringing. Over and over again. Abby hung up. We were disconnected. The world is functioning in slow motion.

  Police sirens wail. From multiple directions. From every direction. People are screaming. My sight is on the alley. Abby’s in that alley.

  As I approach it, a girl stumbles out and she latches onto me. She has blond hair, but the rest of her is covered in red...marked by blood. Chunks of something on her shoulder. Her eyes are too wide and she shakes. “They’re killing people. They’re killing people in there.”

  I grab onto her arms, not caring what I’m touching. “Did you see a girl? Long dark brown hair? Your height? My age?”

  She nods, too quickly. “She was with a guy, they went left. He came out. She didn’t. I was hiding. My boyfriend said he’d be right back.” She’s growing higher in pitch and tears fall from her eyes. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Help me! Please help me! They shot my boyfriend!”

  The girl starts screaming and her panic becomes a pulse in my brain. I release her and race into the darkness. A deafening bang reverberates against the walls and instinct causes me to slam my back into the concrete.

  Abby. It’s her name in my heartbeat. Her life as a prayer. Please, God, protect Abby.

  “Let’s go!” A deep voice yells and there’s footsteps. Several of them. I crouch against a Dumpster. Two people run past and across from me, a shadow emerges from the alley to the left—Abby’s alley.

  “I said let’s go!” the guy calls again.

  The shadow steps into the dim light of the moon. The guy’s older than me, but not by much. Hat over his head, jeans, and a gun in his hand. “Did someone double back? I heard someone out here.”

  My skin prickles, and as if he can hear my heart beating, he focuses on my general area.

  And then he’s off. Gone. Running.

  A new shadow cuts into the game and he’s heading to where I need to be. I chase and we’re trapped in a maze. My pulse pounds in my ears, my breaths come out in short bursts. An intersection of paths and then a loud male curse. “Dammit!”

  My lungs burst with fear. Abby.

  All the thoughts cease and it’s instinct. Find her. Protect her. Kill whoever has hurt her. The shadow crouches over a form. Pushing hair away from a face and my entire body seizes in pain. I reach down, swipe up a piece of long metal, swing it back and...

  The shadow’s head snaps up and so do his arms. In his hands is a gun pointed straight at me, and right above him, the razor-sharp edge of the metal halts near his head.

  “I’m with her,” he states.

  My heart races and I wish for the cold blood th
at must run through Abby in order to live this life. “Prove it.”

  “You were with her earlier. The two of you flirted all fucking night. Kissed near the stage.”

  So he spied. “Not enough.”

  “I haven’t shot your brains out yet.”

  Good enough. I drop the metal and he lowers his gun then flips Abby over. Terror seizes me at the sight of blood seeping through her shirt and the gash on her head. I run a hand over my face. The police won’t find us fast enough. She’s dying and the police won’t find her. I swing Abby up in his arms and the guy jumps in front of me.

  “What are you doing?” He’s in a ray of moonlight and I can see his face. This guy’s midtwenties and that ice exists in his eyes.

  “I’m getting Abby help.” She’s too light, too pale, acting like a shattered porcelain doll, her breaths come out ragged and all that causes my heart to rip open.

  He swipes up a phone—Abby’s phone—and a knife covered in blood.

  “That’s evidence,” I say. “Leave it.”

  He pockets both like I didn’t speak. “I’m aware.” I don’t have time to argue. As I shove past him, he grabs my arm. “Did you see who shot her?”

  Yes, but I don’t trust him. “No.”

  I jerk out of his hold and his gun’s out as he sprints ahead of me.

  “You tell the police you were on a date,” he says. “You went to get the car. You got separated. Abby called. Got scared. Went into the alley to hide and you went after her. You never saw me and when Abby wakes up, tell her I got her phone and blade.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “She’ll know who I am,” he says as we reach the street. “Now go.”

  Sirens. Multiple sirens. The gunshots. The bar scene. The place is a powder keg and they’ll be coming in hot. I look to the left, look to the right, no cops in sight, but a crowd begins to gather.