by Alex Just
***
17
~Paris ~
A teenage couple made a loud attempt at scampering away from an old hut also using the train as cover from the police. Stan flourished his hand gun and they froze. He could tell they’d been drinking. In French he gave them a set of instructions; his tone held so much menace that their intoxicated minds were terrified. He threatened he’d kill them. Satisfied they’d do as they were told; Stan and Adrianna resumed their dash and crossed onto another road. Stan, felt better, he’d regained some control.
The train had almost passed them. The last wagons were about to race by and expose them.
‘I hope you can swim Anna,’ he shoved her off the edge down the six metre drop. Her scream was swallowed up by the tiny waves lapping silently at the base of the bank. Shaky ripples the only disturbance of the water. Not missing a heartbeat Stan followed suit, leaping off the high wall and diving into the cold water. His head bobbed up next to Anna’s who was spluttering and shivering. Before she could say anything he struck out for the other bank. The only thing poking above the surface was his head. Glancing behind him he saw that Adrianna was mirroring his movements. He slowed his pace so that she could catch up and then together they inched their way across the river Seine, dodging the flotsam of rubbish and litter that was scattered across the water’s surface.
They were about three quarters across the river, limbs beginning to stiffen in the cold water. Their breath was exhaling noisily as the loud thump, thump of helicopter rotor blades could be heard broadcasting their deadly rhythm across the night sky like the beating of savage’s drums before a sacrifice. Our sacrifice, thought Stan grimly. Not too far away from them, a bright glow sliced downwards like a spaceship’s light beam. Ducking underwater wouldn’t work as the illumination would still pick them out. The only thing they could do was keep swimming and hope the plan worked. It was lucky that Stanley had angled their swim so they could use the current later on to speed up their crossing. Instinctively the two picked up their pace, the prospect of shore appearing to them like a hot shower and a warm bed. A loud commotion could be heard behind them and when both looked, they saw the two teenagers, one male and the other female getting knocked to the ground and arrested. The helicopter turned around and sped off back to its base. The remaining police returned to their cars and the flashing lights trailed slowly out of view.
Allowing himself a small satisfied smile, Stan couldn’t help but feel a a pang of pity for the person in charge of that police squad. They’d be getting one hell of a bollocking when the fingerprints of the kid didn’t match the gun that had been seen in Stan’s hand, and the kids related what really happened once they sobered up enough.
They reached the other bank without further incident, shivering in the freezing night air, their bodies shaking violently. A fit of coughing wracked Adrianna’s body. She’d start to get hypothermic if they didn’t find somewhere warm and a change of clothes. They were in a container yard, the large cubical shapes dominating the area. Huge towers of them stretched way up into the air, alleyways ran between the containers creating a maze of shadows. They ran between these giants, steam pouring off their bodies and misting up the air around them. Eventually they made it to the gate, slipping silently out under the barrier, avoiding the guard’s eyes, a feat that deserved no merit, for he was staring intently at a glowing display of a football match, sipping hot coffee.
Out on the street, Stan searched for a suitable apartment or house.
‘Stay hidden till you hear me call out OK?’
The road was lined with houses, and at one corner there was a small construction site. They must have been attempting to fix a drain. Spotting the perfect place immediately, he made his way over there. A bottom storey apartment had its curtains drawn shut, but not perfectly, allowing a small splash of yellow to cut a slice in the darkness outside. He walked up to the window, stooping to pick up a brick at the roadside and punched it through. The noise was loud and shattered any illusions of a calm night. The screams were late in coming, so that by the time any sound could be uttered Stan was already in the room. Dripping wet, reeking of the river, hair plastered to his head, eyes wild, he had a long knife held to the throat of a naked woman. Stan couldn’t suppress the laughter that bubbled out through his mouth. The room he’d picked was the bedroom of a couple. His interruption had left them too shocked to react. Therefore, thankfully, they hadn’t called the police. In French he demanded that the man go to the window and call out to Adrianna. Disbelief registering on her face, as she saw what was happening in front of her, her hand jumped up to cover her mouth so she wouldn’t scream.
‘I need you to tie the man up over there. I don’t care with what, just do it fast. Search the house if you want, find some rope. Otherwise find a broom cupboard we can lock.’
She stood transfixed by the nightmare unfolding before her own eyes. Unsure of what to do and regretting the enthusiasm she’d had about accompanying Stan on this hair brained scheme.
‘We really don’t have much time,’ his voice was gentle; it helped shrug off her angst.
‘You’re right. I’ll go now.’ She disappeared into the house.
A moment later she returned.
‘I found a cupboard with no windows; you can lock it from the outside. That should be alright shouldn’t it?’ Her voice barely managed to disguise the tremor of fear and exhaustion which lay beneath.
‘That should be fine love,’ his voice was kind, ‘show me where please.’
She led them to the cupboard, Stan still holding the woman hostage. When both the man and woman were locked up, Stan’s manner was brisk again.
‘Right, find the bathroom and have a hot shower, clean yourself up, while I find us some clothes we can wear.’
She gave a small nod, and went in search of the bathroom, which she found leading off from the bedroom.
Twenty minutes later they were both showered, dry and dressed in casual clothes. At least now they didn’t look like drowned rats and wouldn’t raise suspicion from any police officers they might pass by. Taking all the cash he could find, Stan ushered Adrianna out through the front door and quietly ducked back into the apartment. There were no sounds coming from inside the cupboard, so as quietly as he could he unlocked it and proceeded to leave through the front door. They’d eventually realise they could open the cupboard; it would take the terrified couple about ten minutes to realise there was no one else in their apartment.
Once outside in the street again, Stan and Adrianna began their trek to the train station. They had to stop at a pay phone and call a taxi as they were completely lost and it was taking too long. The taxi driver was friendly and open. He provided them with lots of information. Apparently there’d been a big arrest tonight, but rumours were going round that it might have been the wrong people who’d been arrested. If that really happened then they’d be blocking every way out of the country in search for the right people.
They thanked the driver, tipping him generously and quickly made their way over to the automatic ticketing machine.
‘What’re you doing?’ Stan was looking perplexed.
‘If you remember, before I could print our electronic ticket, you put a bullet through my computer and we were attacked by psychos, so now if we want to reach Madrid before they close the train station down and we get caught, I suggest we buy ourselves two new tickets and get out of here?’
‘Maybe it’s not so bad having you along after all?’
Giving him a look that would’ve left plants withering she followed the onscreen instructions and sorted them out with their new tickets.
