The Reachers Collection

Chapter 12-2

Another flight conquered, but the sounds were creeping up after them. It sounded like more police had arrived. John seemed to think so too. He reached the fourth floor above Rachel"s and side stepped into the next corridor. His movements were so precise it was like he"d done this before. Rachel clumsily followed. She hit the door too hard, banging it against the wall.

John flinched. He gave her a warning look, one that made her never want to get on his bad side. Carefully, she closed the door behind her. This corridor was different. A fire exit sulked in the corner. Rachel stared at it, wondering what the people on this floor had done to get the additional health and safety benefits.

As John pushed open the door the icy air knocked the breath out of her. She realised then that she was sweating. John reached out his hand impatiently.

The fire exit led to a small, precariously secured metal ladder. Rachel looked at it and broke a smile.

“You"re joking, right?”

“It"s safe,” he said as he pulled out a pair of leather gloves. He passed them to her. “Put these on and climb down after me. Go careful but quick.”

The ground taunted her sixteen stories below. The drop would see her body splattered across the cracked pavement. She wouldn"t even feel it. As she climbed out onto the building"s side her head started to spin. She realised not being able to feel her death was no comfort. Her gloved fingers struggled to grasp the ladder. She felt herself slipping and her stomach lurched. It was enough to propel her forwards. She clutched onto the metal and sucked in the air through her chattering teeth. The exit was out of her reach. The only way was down.

Even with the gloves the ladder was freezing. Rachel"s hands were stinging by the third rung. John clasped the side of the ladder as he descended. If the cold bothered him he wasn"t showing it. He held on with his bare hands, moving down at a steady rhythm. At least six feet beneath her already, he would reach the ground before she even made it half way.

Rachel"s arms were already burning. The air whipped at her, tearing her hair from its plait. She was shivering as the sweat froze against her skin. The ladder creaked with her every movement. She"d lost count of the floors. The ground was nearer. If she fell now it would be a slow death. She"d feel the breaks in her bones when she hit the ground. Maybe she"d stay conscious, aware of her life as it spilled out over the concrete. She swallowed and continued moving.

“Rachel, stop,” John hissed.

She glanced down. Two cops were sweeping the pavement below her. Their flashlights danced around the surrounding bushes. John was pressing himself against the wall. Rachel did the same. She closed her eyes. Held her breath. And waited.

The footsteps of the officers echoed through the wind. She heard them talking. They were nervous. It should have been a routine patrol, an easy night for the pair of them. Damn terrorists. Their footsteps faded. Rachel dared to peek. Red and blue flashes grew fiercer around the corner. If John was right they would already be securing the area. Mostly the police were useless, but the recent bombings had changed things.

Damn terrorists“Okay, move,” John whispered. “Quickly, we"re running out of time.”

With a breath to steady what was left of her nerves, she dropped down another rung. Her hands were shaking in the panic. John would reach the bottom and he would have to wait for her. With the police circling the building he couldn"t afford to do that. She had to move faster or she"d get them both caught.

Fighting against the aches in her body, she matched John"s pace. He was nearly at the bottom and she was about to join him. Then her foot struck the next rung too hard. She slipped. Her legs kicked out into nothingness. She was going to fall. Her mouth opened to scream, but a hand closed around it. Her body was pressed into the wall; secured back on the treacherous ladder.

John had a tight hold on her. His body overlapped hers. She had no idea how he had reached her so quickly, and at that moment she didn"t care. His breathing was steady, his heart rate calm. It was infectious. Rachel felt herself relax against him. They were still alive. It probably wouldn"t last, but for the second she could enjoy it.

“Ready?” he said, releasing her.

“Yeah, let"s do this.”

The final rungs were in sight. If she jumped she would probably just sprain an ankle. John jumped clear, landing like a cat on the ground. He reached out to help her join him. Her feet touched solid earth and she stopped herself from dropping to her knees and kissing the ground.

“I can"t believe I did that,” she said.

“Let"s move.”

He led the way around the back of the building, keeping close to the wall. When they reached the corner he leaned over and instantly fell back.

“What is it?”

“They"re coming back.” His head frantically turned to find an escape. But there wasn"t one.

He grabbed her hand, meaning to drag her back the way they had come. It was useless. They were trapped. She pulled John back, pushing him against the wall this time. He was about to fight her and then they heard their footsteps.

“You have to relax and trust me this time,” she whispered. “Close your eyes. You"re not here.”

John was at least a foot and a half taller than her. She stood in front of him regardless. Her arms slotted under his, tucking him in to a tight hug. She closed her eyes and the harsh concrete block dissolved. She was six years old, sitting in the snow, clutching her older sister for dear life. Men in balaclavas walked through the wood around them. Not here, not here, not here, she had said.

Not here, not here, not here,The officers turned the corner. The nerves through her back started to tingle. If they were doing their jobs properly they might see her and John, and it wouldn"t matter how hard she tried. But if they were lax, if they thought they had already cleared the building, their guard would be down.

“Not here, not here, not here,” she murmured until there were no other words in the world.

“It"ll be kids,” one cop said to the other. “Bet you anything, goddamn stupid kids.”

Their boots crunched against the gravel. Two steps away. One step. Rachel held her breath. Her grip around John tightened. Not here, not here. The footsteps stopped. Rachel felt John"s heart rate increase. She squeezed him harder. He couldn"t buckle, she wouldn"t let him.

Not here, not here“Fancy a smoke before the big guns arrive?” One of the cops said.

She listened as he rummaged through his uniform. A match was struck. She smelt smoke. They were standing right there, less than an arm length away and they still hadn"t noticed anything amiss. She felt John"s body loosen. The officers smoked and grunted at each other. Their idle chit-chat was as impressive as their observational skills. Rachel opened one eye impatiently. Back to work, back to work, back to work.

Back to work, back to work, back to workLike puppets they stamped out their cigarettes. Their trudging steps struck the pavement. In seconds they were gone. John subtly coughed. She realised she was still clutching him tightly. Reluctantly she released him and shivered at the loss of warmth. John"s mouth twitched in a rare smirk.

“You can make yourself invisible?”

“Yes, well no, not invisible, more unnoticeable.” She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. “Learned that after months of running away from insurgents.”

John looked surprised, and Rachel couldn"t help but feel smug. They thought they knew everything about her; they had barely scratched the surface.

“Why were you running away from insurgents?” John said, gesturing that they should keep walking, heading back towards the canal.

“We took a wrong turn. I don"t really remember the hows and whys. My parents had a farm in Red Forest.” She didn"t have to elaborate. Most people had heard about the fighting in Red Forest, how the insurgents tried to move in and how the military tried to stop them. How anyone in the middle ended up in a mass grave. Few really understood exactly what happened.

“How old were you?”

“About six. I just remember my father being so determined we had to get to S"aven. He was worried about the military getting us. A guerrilla warrior shot him. That wasn"t in your file was it?” She asked him, already knowing the answer.

The wind wasn"t so bad at ground level but she was starting to shiver in the cold. As the remnants of red and blue disappeared under an urban horizon her adrenaline started to ebb. She realised how hungry she was and her body started to revolt against her.

“Are you okay?” John asked as she stumbled.

“I"m good,” she said through chattering teeth.

John wrapped his coat around her without a word. She was starting to like him.