by Harley Tate
A huge banner hung on the wall with photos of brand-new furniture and wall-to-wall windows.
Decorated Model Now Open
Be One of the First To Buy
Customize Your Floor Plan Today
The men stopped outside the door and the one closest banged on it with a fist. It opened a minute later and a man with a gun similar to Big G’s stood inside. He looked Midge up and down and grinned. “Where’d you get her?”
He reached out to touch her when one of the guys held up a hand. “She’s Big G’s girl. Don’t even think about it.”
Midge’s stomach churned. She’d never be anyone’s girl.
They dragged her into a well-lit apartment with massive windows and a state-of-the-art kitchen. Midge stared in awe, not understanding what she was seeing. It wasn’t the plush couch or the gleaming hardwood floors that rendered her speechless; it was the light. The ceiling light glowed with silent electricity.
She twisted around, trying to figure it out, when she spied a framed ad on the wall touting a 24-hour concierge and 100 percent renewable solar power. Of all the places.
The men threw her on the sofa and she bounced against the soft white velvet. “Stay there. Don’t move.”
Midge did as she was told, tucking her feet up underneath her as she rubbed at the bruises on her arms. Thanks to the solar power, the unit was warm and comfortable. The furnishings were way nicer than anything Midge owned, but Big G’s men didn’t seem to care. Empty beer bottles littered the kitchen counter and empty food wrappers covered the coffee table. A fat red wine stain ruined a rug that probably cost more than Midge’s first car, and one of the windows was covered in what looked like paint.
She shook her head in disgust. One of the only powered apartments in all of Chicago and these guys were content to trash it. Midge hoped they all burned into a crisp when the bombs went off. Preferably with her a hundred miles away.
She grinned at the thought, but her face fell when the door opened and Big G sauntered in.
“Hey, pretty lady.” He fell onto the couch beside her and shoved the trash out of the way before setting his massive rifle on the coffee table. He unstrapped the vest and tugged it over his head and threw it on the floor. The T-shirt he wore underneath was soaked in sweat and Midge wrinkled her nose at the smell.
He gave her a big, flashy grin and propped his arm on the back of the couch. “Been looking forward to getting you alone.”
She almost gagged.
He slid closer.
She slid away. “Don’t touch me.”
Big G’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t play nice, I’ll give you to the dogs who brought you in here. They’re starved for a nice piece, if you know what I mean.”
Midge didn’t move. She didn’t doubt his threat, not for a second. Without any real means to defend herself, she was at Big G’s mercy whether she liked it or not. The best she could hope for was that he’d either grow bored or something else would come along to distract him.
Thoughts of Danny filled her head and she hoped he’d escaped. If not, then he was probably dead, blood congealing in some back alley a few blocks away. She stared down at her hands. Faint flecks of DuBois’s blood cracked across her knuckles.
I shouldn’t have been so dismissive. I shouldn’t have pushed Danny away. If she’d been nicer, if she’d opened up more, would they be safe right now? If she hadn’t insisted on riding so fast or so far ahead, they might have missed Big G’s group entirely. She and Danny would be safe at Jessica’s place right now, prepping to leave the city.
Instead, Danny was running for his life and she would have to endure Big G’s advances. Midge clenched her fists. If she made it out of there alive, she would find Danny no matter what.
Chapter Fourteen
DANNY
Saturday, 4:00 am CST
Streets of Chicago
Darkness closed in around him, a suffocating, cloying sweetness of terror fueled by the two men on his tail. They were going to kill him if he didn’t get away.
Danny tore down an alley, tripping over a cardboard box left over from some homeless camp and sprawled forward, free hand grazing the sticky asphalt. One, two, three steps to regain control, another to pick up speed.
Head pounding, heart thundering even faster than his feet. He risked a glance. Damn it. A man whipped the corner and spotted him. Skidding to a stop, he raised a gun. Danny ducked behind a dumpster. A shot rang out.
The putrid smell of rotten meat filled his nose, but Danny sucked it in, desperate for oxygen. He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow down. The dumpster provided a moment of cover, but not enough. Nothing might ever be enough.
He kept running, down the alley, out onto the street, and away into the night. He didn’t know where he was or where he was headed, only away as fast as his legs could carry him.
A calendar of canceled gym workouts mocked him as he gasped for oxygen. Too many treadmill workouts skipped so he could sleep in. Endurance had never been his thing. If he lived through the night, that would have to change.
Sweat slicked his palm and dripped down the barrel of DuBois’s gun. When he’d fired at Big G, he didn’t even know if it was loaded. Thankfully DuBois kept it ready to fire, but his aim had been worthless and the round went wide.
A hand cannon with a kick like an angry mule was a far cry from the shotgun his father let him use on their yearly hunt. How DuBois ever shot the thing with any accuracy, Danny hadn’t a clue. Maybe that was the point. Maybe it was only ever intended for show.
He stole down another alley, racing against the footsteps on the street. The weight of the gun dragged his whole arm down. He switched hands as a big plastic recycling bin rose out of the dark. Danny slammed into it and the whole thing fell over, cans and bottles rolling across the asphalt. He landed hard on his hip, barely avoiding an empty wine bottle, and a burst of pain ricocheted through his muscle and all the way to the bone. The can toppled over, metal lid clanging to the ground as rotting food spilled everywhere.
A shout cut through the roar of his own breath in his ears. “Yo, Frankie, this way!”
Danny groaned and pulled himself up, half running, half staggering toward the end of the alley and the street beyond. He hit the sidewalk and turned the corner as the brick a foot above his head exploded.
If he’d been a second slower, he’d be dead. He pushed himself on down the street, every step slower than the last. No matter how hard he inhaled, he couldn’t get enough air.
I have to hide.
He spun around and caught sight of a small alcove. It wasn’t much, but what choice did he have? Danny ran to it, dipping behind the stone casement as one of Big G’s thugs hit the street.
He sank back against the single door, terrified he’d been spotted, and forced his breath to slow. His lungs burned with the effort, his sides heaved and every muscle in his legs and back screamed for rest. The door handle dug into his hip and he reached for it, trying in vain to twist the chilled metal.
Locked. He was trapped and Big G’s men weren’t giving up. Danny’s fingers trembled and he wiped his palms on his jeans, hoping to improve his grip on the gun.
He mouthed a silent plea. You can’t see me. I’m not here. Danny repeated the words over and over, as he waited in the little slice of darkness. Fear and pain threatened to turn him weak, but he fought them back, refusing to give up, refusing to surrender.
All at once, the pungent stank of sweat hit him so hard, Danny covered his nose with his hand. His pursuer was almost upon him. The gun shook as he brought it up into position, finger on the trigger. He held it close to his chest and waited.
There was a line between firing wildly in an attempt to escape a deadly situation and lying in wait to shoot a man in cold blood. Danny stared at the scrap of sidewalk he could see from the alcove. Behind him, the metal of the door chilled him to the bone. His feet hung over the edge of the step as he braced for the inevitable.
I can do this.
A foot came first. Followed by a thigh, then a torso, and finally a head. The moon lit the man in a ghostly glow, turning his eyes into sockets and his cheeks into bone. He might as well be dead already.
The man turned toward the hiding place, Danny inhaled, and fired. The gun kicked so hard it almost clocked him in the jaw and the sound of the shot bounced around the little alcove, amplifying off the stone walls until all Danny could hear was ringing.
He stared at the man, blood blooming on his chest as he sagged to the sidewalk in slow motion. His knees hit the ground and he crumpled, landing on his side, one arm outstretched like a swimmer elongating for the side stroke.
I did it. I killed him. Danny didn’t know what to think. He’d expected panic or regret, not the eerie calmness that descended on him like a shroud.
He didn’t see the second man until it was too late. A fist came out of nowhere, colliding with Danny’s jaw. DuBois’s gun bounced down the step and skittered across the sidewalk to stop by the dead man’s feet.
Danny fell back against the wall, dizzy from the force of the blow. The other man blocked his escape, broad shoulders filling the entire exit.
As the man bent to pick up DuBois’s gun, Danny slid to the ground. This was it. All the running, all the pain and fear led up to this moment. He’d survived a plane crash and an escape from O’Hare to be caught by a random thug reporting to some random gangbanger in a city he’d never been to before today.
He wouldn’t discover a new antibiotic or a treatment for drug-resistant infections. He wouldn’t get married and have a family. He wouldn’t survive nuclear war.
Neither would Midge.
Danny choked on a truth so brutal, it destroyed his ability to fight. He’d failed Midge and he’d failed himself. There was no way out, not now.
He closed his eyes as Big G’s man pointed the gun at his face.
Chapter Fifteen
DANNY
Saturday, 4:30 am CST
Streets of Chicago
The shot echoed off the stone walls and Danny flinched. He’d expected excruciating pain or instant death or even slow, unrelenting blood loss. Apart from renewed ringing in his ears, Danny didn’t feel a thing. He cracked open one eye.
Big G’s thug sprawled on the ground, one leg bent at an impossible angle. Blood soaked the sidewalk and ran down a crack to the gutter. Danny bent to pick up his gun when a voice called out.
“Hold it right there.”
He froze, arm outstretched.
“What’s your name?”
“Daniel Olsen.” He didn’t dare move an inch. If whoever killed the thug at his feet was asking the questions, he’d wait until given permission to stand or even turn his head.
“What name do you use?”
“Um…Danny?”
“Is that a question?”
“No.” He smacked his lips. “Danny. I go by Danny.”
The voice paused for a moment before responding, “You can get the gun.”
Danny reached for it and stood up, coming face-to-face with two men dressed like Chicago’s finest. Based on the name tapes, cropped haircuts, and lack of tattoos, Danny guessed they were the real deal.
He exhaled in relief. “Thank you so much. I thought…I thought that was it.”
The one closest to the thug bent down and checked for a pulse. “I’m Raymond, Jessica’s husband.”
Danny gasped. “Is she all right? Caden, too?”
After confirming the man was dead, Raymond nodded and stood up. “They’re fine. She asked us to come find you, said some thug with an M-4 and an entourage had you all at gunpoint.” He kicked the dead man at his feet. “This isn’t him, is it?”
“No.” Danny stuffed DuBois’s gun in his waistband and stepped out of the alcove. “Big G left with Midge.” Danny swallowed. “He sent two guys to take me out. Did you find the other one?”
The cop standing behind Raymond nodded. “He’s in the alley around the corner. Tried to shoot us with a .380. Idiot held it sideways and it jammed.” He stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “Owen. Nice to meet you.”
Danny shook it and tried to smile. “You, too.”
“So where’d this Big G guy take your friend?”
Danny grimaced. “I have no idea.”
“What do you know?”
Danny relayed everything he could remember about Big G, from the tactical flashlight, to his bulletproof vest that looked exactly like Raymond’s, to tattoos covering his face, and the goons who followed orders, no questions asked.
Owen leaned toward Raymond. “Think he’s the one who’s been terrorizing people over on Rodgers Street?”
“Sounds like him.”
“Think he’s still there?”
“It’s an awful long way. No, I’d say he’s found somewhere closer to call home.” Raymond turned to Danny. “What’s this friend of yours look like? Midge, you said?”
Danny nodded. “She’s about five feet six or seven, long black hair, dressed all in black.”
“She some kind of anarchist or something?”
“More of a computer geek.”
Owen said something Danny couldn’t hear and Raymond laughed. “All right. We’ll help find her. If this Big G guy moved into our turf, we need to take him out before he hurts someone else.”
Raymond and Owen began to plan, heads bent toward each other. Danny stepped away from the dead man on the sidewalk. He pushed his hair off his face with two hands and gripped the top of his head, trying to think. If what Midge told DuBois were true, and bombs were about to fall on all the major cities, then the selfish thing to do would be to turn and run.
Less than a day ago, he’d never met Midge, Jessica, or anyone else he’d encountered that day. When he boarded that plane in Charlotte, he was just another college kid on his way back to school from an interview for a job he didn’t want. An interview his father had arranged and insisted he attend.
My father.
Just the thought of the man siphoned bile up Danny’s throat, and he swallowed as the bitter taste turned his stomach. If he called his father now, would he believe him? Would he get out of Manhattan and leave his precious money behind? All those millions, not housed in a bank, somewhere in fat stacks of paper or gold bars, but floating in the ether of the internet. His father spent his entire life buying and selling stakes in businesses, all without a physical penny changing hands.
Danny pulled out his phone. No service. He shoved it back in his pocket and turned toward the two policemen. He couldn’t worry about a man who cared more about his ranking on Forbes’ richest list than he did about his own son. Midge was somewhere in the city of Chicago, and she needed his help.
He might have run when those two thugs chased him, but he wouldn’t run now. Sweat pricked the back of his neck as he thought about Big G’s operation, but he couldn’t let that stop him. Fake it till you make it. That’s what he’d told his little brother when he started a new school in fourth grade. If only Joey had lived to see him now.
Danny stood up straight and pulled his shoulders back. “How can I help?”
Raymond glanced at him. “You really want to be a part of this?”
“I do. Without Midge, I wouldn’t have made it this far. I owe her.”
“All right.” Owen stepped forward. “Main thing is, don’t get in our way. Once we find them, we’re going in, and we’re going in fast. We can’t be worrying about accidentally shooting you in the process.”
“Understood.”
Owen rattled off a few more rules and they set off, searching for any sign of Big G or his gang. They kept to the shadows with Raymond and Owen doing most of the work, darting in unlocked buildings and through open windows, scouting out apartments and three-story walk-ups and the businesses in between.
With every block, Danny grew more and more discouraged. Chicago stretched on for miles. The chances of them finding Midge in the concrete jungle were slim to none. He kicked the curb and a small chunk dislodged. He bent
to pick it up, ready to huck it into the dark, when a light caught his eye.
A window on the back of an apartment building glowed.
Danny squinted. Was it a car? A flashlight? It didn’t look like either. No matter how much it didn’t make sense, it looked like an overhead light. He hustled to catch up with Raymond halfway down the block.
Danny pointed to the light. “What about that place? It’s all lit up like the power’s on.”
Owen nodded. “I toured it last month. One of those zero-footprint places that uses solar power and recycles their gray water for a rooftop garden.”
Danny sagged. “Can’t imagine a guy like Big G living there.”
“Is it occupied?”
Owen shook his head. “Not yet. Only the model apartment is decorated; the rest are just concrete and glass. Each resident designs their own unit.”
“Fancy.” Raymond almost spit. “How could you afford it on our salary?”
Owen grinned. “I can’t. I just thought the agent showing the place was hot.”
Raymond shook his head. “You chase more tail than you chase perps.”
Owen laughed off Raymond’s barb. “We should check it out. I can’t believe the apartment company would waste their power to light the place at night.”
With Raymond and Owen in the lead, the three men crept toward the building. Owen scouted the front entrance while Raymond and Danny eased along the side to a rear door. Danny wiped his palms on his jeans and tried to stay calm. He’d almost died at the hands of one of Big G’s men and now he might be walking straight into his hideout.
Stupid didn’t begin to cover it.
He rested a hand on DuBois’s gun as Owen hurried toward them.
