AS WE BURST OUT INTO the daylight, Decker sweeps off to the right, waving his grunt across the road, me off to the left. Hoodie was perhaps thirty seconds ahead of us. He has to be close.
I’d not realised I’m still clutching my water bottle. Running as I go, I take a final swig of my water, the bottle tilting back as I drain it.
And as I lower it again, Hoodie’s there, running like the Devil’s on his tail...
Not slowing my pace, I toss the bottle at a trash can, miss and it bounces off to the side...
So, sue me...
... freeing the hand to tug my knife from its holster.
He’s still running, but he’s sagging, staggering almost. Elbows vee’d, he grips his ribs, twisting to look back over his shoulder. I treat him to the sight of my blade, holding it up to let the blood-streaked steel glin
