Last Call by Morgan Burke

Author:Morgan Burke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2005-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

12

“Whfff …,” she mumbled, but the hand was thick. Strong.

A guy.

Instinctively she opened her eyes wide, but there was no light. She couldn’t see a thing.

He was pulling her down toward the toilet, grabbing at her purse.

My bag. He wants to strangle me with the strap. He’s going to kill me! Kirsten felt her knees buckle. She was sinking toward the toilet. She pushed back, but he was strong. Relentless. She reached out, grabbing for something, anything.

Her fingers closed around a thick piece of metal. The broken toilet paper dispenser.

She swung it up, over her head—slammed her attacker hard.

Thwack.

Contact.

She heard a startled groan. The grip loosened.

“Yeeeahh!” she grunted, swinging harder.

Thwack.

“Arrrrggghh!” he cried out.

She stood up, pushing hard with her thigh muscles. Her attacker fell backward, and she heard his head hit the tiled wall. Kirsten turned, reaching back with the twisted metal dispenser, but he shoved her aside, bolting out of the stall and through the bathroom door.

She straightened herself out, her hand dripping blood from clutching the jagged metal, and she dropped the dispenser. Holding the bleeding hand with her good one to stanch the flow, she staggered out into the dim light of the Yellow Trance.

There he was. Running through the crowd, pushing people aside, making a commotion. She caught a glimpse of a black shirt, an arm pushing someone aside.

Jones!

“Stop him!” She ran, ignoring the blood, pushing her way across the floor.

In a moment, Julie was by her side, alarmed and confused. “Kirsten, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Did you see him?” Kirsten shouted, not breaking stride. “Did you see Jones? He attacked me! Don’t let him get away!”

He was racing out the front door now. She couldn’t really see him, but she could tell where he was by the sudden movement of the crowd he was pushing aside. Then a gap. She could see a dark figure barging into the crowd on Second Avenue, running off to the left.

“Please! Somebody, stop him!” Kirsten shouted into a sea of blank, seen-it-all New York faces. She was out the door seconds later. But she ran straight into someone who had decided to step right into her path.

“Get out of my—” she began. But the words caught in her throat as she glanced up into Jones’s face. “Ahhhhh!” she shrieked, jumping back and falling into Julie, who staggered backward, grabbing on to the edge of an outdoor table.

Jones took off at a sprint, up Second Avenue.

The same direction she’d seen him run just seconds before.

“That’s him!” Kirsten shouted.

“How could that be him?” Julie said. “He ran away!”

Kirsten balanced herself and took off in pursuit. Jones was already to the next corner, picking up speed. Another figure was halfway up the next block, farther away, running even faster.

Jones was chasing him.

Wait. What’s going on? Kirsten wondered. Who is he chasing? The guy who attacked me? Because if it wasn’t Jones … then who was it?

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