by Dave Conifer
“Yeah,” Jonas nodded.
“Let’s get her onto the examination table.”
“I’ll try to lift her out of the chair,” Jonas said. He dug his hands under Reno’s arms and yanked her up. Staley picked up her legs and pivoted until Reno was on the table, then stepped around to where she could get a look at the head wound.
She pulled the blood-soaked pads from the wound with efficiency. Jonas went queasy as he watched dark gristle drip and fall away. “Good Lord! What did she get hit with?” Staley asked as she wiped at the accumulation of blood and loose tissue. “This is a very serious contusion. We’re going to have to keep her overnight, I can tell you right now.” She stopped what she was doing long enough to look Jonas in the eye. “Did you do this?”
“No!” Jonas snapped back, his face twisting into a scowl. “Who do you think you are, asking me a question like that?”
“I’ll ask any question I want to ask. That’s my job. I’ve seen a lot of battered women. The man always reacts that way when I ask. That won’t stop me from asking.”
“She’s not a battered woman,” Jonas argued. “She was attacked from behind. By somebody else.”
“Hmm,” Staley said. “By who?”
“I can’t talk about it. Just get her fixed up. Please.”
“Oh, you’ll talk,” Nurse Staley said, drawing the words out to a patronizing tone.
“You can ask her when she comes out of it,” Jonas insisted. “She’ll tell you.”
“I intend to. But they don’t usually tell the truth now, do they? If they do, they pay for it later.”
Jonas tried to stay calm. The nurse was complicating the situation far past the point where he could consider everything. He needed time to think. “I have to go move the car. I’ll be right back.”
The car was right where he’d left it and the passenger door was still wide open. Moving the car was more than a ploy to stall for time. Besides being parked illegally, it was a dead giveaway to its owners, who were probably looking for it by then. He drove it down the hill past the football stadium and slipped into a crowded parking lot.
Once the car was parked he walked back up the hill towards the hospital, trying to decide how much he could disclose about what had happened. The truth was out of the question. Whoever they told it to would hold them just long enough for Braden to set up his team. By the time he reached the emergency room he’d decided to go with a generic burglar story. The nurse wouldn’t believe him but as long as Reno was taken care of it didn’t matter, at least for the moment. He walked inside and past the receptionist without a word, but when he looked back he noticed she was watching him with the telephone in her hand.
Finding his way back to the examination room through the labyrinth of corridors proved more difficult than he expected. When he finally saw Nurse Staley ahead he was relieved, but the feeling didn’t last. She disappeared from view as he approached, and two uniformed policemen popped out of the room to take her place. Jonas knew instantly what had happened. The busybody nurse had called the police to report the case as an incident of domestic violence. He reversed course and veered down another hallway. As of that moment, in addition to the problems he already faced, he became a fugitive of the law.
He could hear the clattering footsteps of the cops as they ran after him. When he came to a stairway he pushed the door open as far as it would go before turning back and darting into a room across the hall from the stairwell. The footsteps of the officers quickly grew louder. He crushed his body into the corner behind a soda machine. When he heard them rushing past and up the stairs he knew his ruse had worked.
Going back the same way he came was out of the question, because Nurse Staley was almost certainly still on guard. Before continuing his flight in the other direction he grabbed a lab coat from a hook and put it on, covering his tattered shirt. He bounded down the first set of stairs he came across and found himself in a dank, austere corridor. This has to be the basement, he decided. Good.
Before he’d taken a step one of the officers appeared. When he saw Jonas he broke into a run. While Jonas scurried back to the stairs he heard the officer radio his partner. He dove behind a green plastic trash barrel that was jammed into the triangular opening beneath the stairs. The officer burst through the door and up the stairs without hesitating. After the footsteps had faded Jonas returned to the hallway and found an exit. The cool breeze of night chilled the sticky mixture of reconstituted blood and perspiration that coated his skin, but it didn’t matter. He was out.
He’d intended to leave the car behind, but the feeling of security it provided once he was inside it changed his mind. He needed to get downtown, where it would be easier to hide. If he drove he could be there in ten minutes. Then he would ditch the car once and for all. It felt wrong to leave Reno behind but he knew he had no choice. She needed medical attention, and he could move quicker without her.
The next round of trouble started as he was idling at a red light across the street from the Coliseum. When the light turned green, two sets of headlights flicked on across the intersection. There was no doubt in his mind that whoever was in those cars had been waiting for him, the same way somebody was probably waiting at every intersection across town. Damnit. I never should have gotten on that goddamned walkie-talkie, he thought. He saw a PRT car roll by on the overpass above the intersection and remembered that there was a station nearby. Without waiting for oncoming traffic to pass he floored the accelerator and nearly lost control of the Impala as he made a wide U-turn. Tires squealed as he fishtailed off the road and up a driveway.
Just before he reached a “T” intersection he could see one of the cars in hot pursuit. He yanked the steering wheel to the left and hopped the curb. Driving wildly, he sped through the grass around the building and slammed the car onto another roadway. There didn’t seem to be any place else to go so he parked and jumped out. He could see the Engineering station of the PRT at the top of the hill and it looked as though he could get to it without leaving the safety of darkness. The fatigue of the day was finally setting in as he huffed his way up the hill, tearing off the lab coat as he ran. A chain link fence cost him more of his wind as well as a layer of skin on his forearm, but he was undaunted as he scaled it and kept moving toward the station.
After running up the concrete steps he vaulted onto the platform without even looking at the students who were already there. An approaching PRT car was within sight, but when he heard footsteps pounding on the concrete he knew it wouldn’t arrive soon enough to board. Leading the charge was Sideburns, the red-haired man who had been tailing them for days. Jonas looked around frantically for a way out but this time it appeared that he was out of options.
-- Chapter 35 --
Sideburns cast a wicked smile at Jonas when they locked eyes across the platform. Jonas recognized the “I’ve got you now!” expression as he racked his brain looking for a way out. Sideburns’s partner didn’t appear to share the sense of urgency as he reached into his pocket in search of the coins required to get them through the turnstile. “Fuck that!” Sideburns yelled. “Just jump!”
Jonas had lost track of the number of times somebody thought they had him cornered in recent days. So far he’d surprised himself with his own resourcefulness. This time it came to him as he watched Sideburns place his hands on the turnstile to hop over. He saw the headlight of the approaching PRT car flash between Sideburn’s arm and torso. It was moving so fast that it had to be an express, which would pass underneath the platform without stopping. His idea was risky but there was no alternative. It was a far better chance to get away than he could have reasonably expected.
The PRT car disappeared from view just after Sideburns hurdled the turnstile. Jonas moved along the opposite edge of the platform to the spot directly above the express track. He looked back at Sideburns, who had closed to within ten feet. A student in a green tank top shouted “Whoa!” when he saw Jonas climb over the railing. You said it, Jonas thought wit
hout looking back.
By then Sideburns had to know what was about to happen. Jonas felt Sideburns’s touch on his arm at the same time that he saw the glow of the oncoming PRT car’s headlight below him. With a twist of his upper body he was free, just as the car appeared below him.
It wasn’t so much a leap as it was a fall forward. The drop was about ten feet. He pushed off the edge of the concrete platform towards the path of the car and landed on a knee at the rear of the roof. Pain knifed through his leg as he flattened out and grabbed for something to hold onto. There were a series of ridges and grooves on the roof that were deep enough for him to grip with his fingertips. That worked for the moment but he worried about what would happen when the car picked up speed.
He could hear shouting on the platform behind him but it faded quickly, and the expected gunshots never came. As the car headed through a curve he fought to keep his body from sliding. Moving forward was harder than he anticipated, especially after the car emerged from a tunnel and accelerated. He was able to pull himself forward but it was painstakingly slow. By the time they passed the Coliseum he’d reached the front of the car and was clinging with both hands to hook-shaped brackets that he could feel but not see. Two good handholds made him feel more confident about staying on top. The rush of the wind was loud enough now that it blocked out all other sound. He wondered if the passengers inside the car even knew he was there.
The car slowed to turn when it reached the bottom of an incline but immediately resumed cruising speed as it moved along the bank of the river. Riding all the way to the next station was out of the question because undoubtedly somebody would be there waiting for him. If he wanted to avoid another confrontation he would have to get off the PRT car, and there was only one way to do that. He would have to jump.
The view of the terrain surrounding the track was surprisingly poor from his vantage point, sprawled flat on the roof of the car. Even if it hadn’t been dark he couldn’t see over the sides. He could only hope he’d be lucky enough not to land on anything hard. The car swerved unexpectedly to the right just as he flung himself, dashing his hopes for a gentle landing. His left elbow grazed the window before crashing against the concrete wall of the elevated track. The unexpected contact spun him around in the air. His body was racked with pain but he was too concerned with the impending impact to focus on it.
He landed on his side in a patch of dirt and rolled away from the track. When he felt safe he remained still, waiting for the initial wave of pain to subside before assessing the damage. Nothing felt broken, he decided with relief. His head, elbow and left hip hurt, but not enough to interfere with his escape. He struggled to his feet and watched the red taillights of the PRT car as it sped away.
Getting downtown remained his mission, but it was going to be harder to accomplish now that somebody was back on his tail. His first concern was to get away from the PRT, which would be the first place they would look. The tracks ran alongside a busy four-lane road. Across the road was a dense, low-lying section of the city that looked like student housing. That would be a good place to hide. He climbed a tall fence and lowered himself carefully onto the shoulder of the road. When there was a break in traffic he ran across as quickly as his aching body could take him. Luckily there were no obstacles on the other side, so he was able to slip easily into the neighborhood.
Half a block away he dropped onto his back in somebody’s front yard. Still breathing hard, he pulled the copy of the article from his back pocket for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. By then it was looking rather shabby, even in the weak glow of a streetlight. The smudged papers had been folded and unfolded so many times that the creases were beginning to tear open. Wishing he had a safe place to store it, he refolded the pages and carefully slid it back into his pocket. He wasn’t even sure why he’d taken it out in the first place. He’d been doing it all day.
The street seemed barren for a college town, even at midnight. He trudged up a steep hill, not knowing where he was going except that it felt like he was heading toward the campus and downtown. As he neared the top students began to appear here and there, many with plastic cups in their hands. His suspicions were confirmed when he came across a sidewalk teeming with people. The street was lined with seedy bars. Bands of drinkers were coming and going from every doorway. He’d stumbled across a center of student partying.
His first impulse was to walk away but he quickly changed his mind. Being among crowds of people would work in his favor because he could blend in, and at that moment what he needed most was information. None of the students he came across would know or care about what he was involved in, and they were sure to know the answers to his questions. Trying not to think about his bedraggled appearance, he limped into the closest bar up the sidewalk.
The place was only half-lit but he could see crowds seated at and standing around a dozen picnic tables. Others milled around in the space between the tables, many carrying plastic pitchers to and from the wooden counter in the corner. Rock music that he didn’t recognize blared from every direction. Three young men behind the bar were filling pitchers with beer as fast as they were handed to them. The sticky floor was littered with flattened plastic cups that crunched and snapped with every step. From an empty corner he watched bar patrons, looking for somebody he could approach. Now that life had slowed down he became aware of throbbing pain from various parts of his body. That reminded him that Reno was lying alone in a hospital across town. He had work to do.
He decided that as soon as somebody got up from one of the crowded tables he would take their place. The worst that would happen would be that he would be told to get lost. When a group of men in fraternity shirts left a table of similarly dressed co-eds he saw his chance. None noticed him until he’d stepped over the bench seat and sat down. One of the women giggled and others made faces at each other. They all fidgeted away from where he sat. I don’t blame them. I better start talking.
“Hi ladies,” he said cheerfully, realizing that what he said mattered less than how he said it. “I’ve had a rough night. Mind if I sit down for a minute?”
“Whatever,” a blonde from across the table said. “We’re leaving anyway.”
“Are you a homeless guy?” another asked.
“Oh brother,” said the girl next to Jonas. “Get a grip.”
“I’m a newspaper reporter,” he told them, thinking that a little truth might help.
“Oh yeah? Then what are you doing here?” asked one of the women from across the table. “Nothing but a bunch of drunk sorority sluts here,” she said. The other women laughed.
“I’m working on a story. My name’s Joe Jonas.”
“I’m Robin,” said the girl next to him. “Don’t listen to them.”
“Hi. Look, I need to find out where The Daily Athenaeum office is. If you tell me where it is, I’ll leave.”
“I thought you were a reporter,” Robin asked. “Oh, wait a minute, I get it. You’re a reporter but not from the D.A.”
“Right, but I have a story for them. I think they’ll be interested but I don’t know where they are.”
“They’re in a little house near Arnold Hall.”
“Arnold Hall?” Jonas repeated. “I don’t really know the campus.”
A scruffy man emerged from the crowd and squeezed in on the bench on Robin’s other side. “What’s up?” he asked as he put his arm around her shoulder.
“Rob, this is Joe,” Robin said. “He just dropped in.” Jonas was struck by the contrast between Rob, with his beard and shoulder length hair, and the majority of students in the bar, especially the ones who’d just left the table. He decided on the spot to rely on Rob and Robin as much as they would let him.
“Hi,” Jonas said. Rob waved his hand without saying anything. “So where’s Arnold Hall?” Jonas asked Robin.
“It’s on Prospect Street. What kind of story is it? Is it why you got all beat up?”
“Yeah.” He hadn’t intended to e
xplain more than he had to, but once he started he found he couldn’t stop himself. For the next five minutes the entire story poured out of his mouth as fast as he could form the words. When he was done he dragged a pitcher across the wooden tabletop and took several healthy gulps from it. Beer dribbled down his chin as he looked around the table at suddenly blank faces. He wasn’t sure how much any of them had understood, but he certainly had their attention.
Robin shifted sideways so she was facing Jonas squarely. “Do you want us to take you there?”
“Yeah, but I doubt they’re open at this hour. Geez, I don’t even know what day it is.”
“It’s Tuesday night.”
“I’d like to be there when they open up in the morning. But somebody’s still chasing me. I have to stay hidden until then.”
“Somebody’s chasing you?” Rob asked. “Right here in Sunnyside?”
“Is that where I am?”
“Where’d you find this guy?” Rob asked Robin.
“He found us.”
“They don’t know exactly where I am,” Jonas continued, “and I want to keep it that way. I jumped off the PRT but they don’t know where I landed.”
“You jumped off the PRT?” Rob said in disbelief. “How’d you get the door open?”
“I wasn’t in it. I was on it.”
“We live a few streets away from Prospect,” Robin said. “Maybe you could come home with us. We won’t turn you in,” she said with a smile.
“That’s just what I need. But I don’t want to get you involved in all this.”
“I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” Rob said. “But let me get this straight. You were on top of a PRT car and you jumped off?”
“Exactly. Now I just need to drop off my story and beg them to print it. Then I have to get out to the hospital and get Abby out of there.”
“So this is all legit?” Rob asked. “You’re not snowing us? It sounds pretty off the wall, man.”
