Plague by H. W. Buzz Bernard

Author:H. W. Buzz Bernard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BelleBooks Inc.
Published: 2012-09-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

NORTH METRO ATLANTA

THURSDAY, AUGUST 22

A distorted storm of color—sodium lights, traffic signals, neon signs—whirled in Richard’s vision. Using his rearview mirror, he tracked Barashi’s headlights through the swarm of traffic that buzzed along the busy multi-laned road. The boulevard, lined with strip malls, car dealerships and gas stations, offered no escape routes. He had no idea where he was running to; didn’t know where the police station or hospital was; knew there was nothing to be gained by dashing for his apartment. He fumbled for the cell phone in his suit jacket, thinking 911. But it was too dark, and he was too rushed to operate it. He left it where it was.

Up ahead, a red traffic light. He slammed on the Mini’s brakes. The traffic behind him compressed, Barashi four or five vehicles back. Richard saw an opportunity. To avoid using his right arm, he reached across his body with his left and slipped the gearshift lever into first. The Mini was the lead car in its lane. Before the traffic signal changed back to green, there would be a green arrow for left turning vehicles in both directions. That would be his opening, his chance.

He revved the engine. Cross-traffic cleared, but not before three cars ran the red. He popped the clutch, peeled straight through the intersection, darting directly in front of a dual-lane phalanx of turning vehicles. He searched for flashing blue lights. Nothing. Of course not, not when I really need a cop. He shifted into second gear, winced, nailed the accelerator to the floor and wove through traffic with Go-Kart aplomb. Albeit sloppily. He wasn’t a skilled driver to begin with and now was hurting badly. At least the Mini was forgiving.

The pain in his arm spread, metastasizing throughout his body. His vision tunneled. His thoughts narrowed. His mind focused solely on survival, on fleeing to a place of safety, a familiar haven. Here, where he was an outlander, he knew of only one.

A minute or two later he blew into an intersection he was certain he had come through earlier in the day. He snapped the steering wheel to the right and accelerated down a dark lane shrouded in drooping trees. Thankfully, not much traffic. A good thing, for the yellow center line on the road blurred and wiggled in his sight. Waves of pain rippled through his body.

Perhaps a quarter mile behind him, headlights appeared, moving fast. He rounded a bend in the road, saw the entrance to the parking lot of Marty’s church. Think, he told himself, Think. Must lose Barashi. He switched off the Mini’s lights. He depressed the clutch, coasted into the lot and, not wanting his brake lights to be seen, pulled gently on the parking brake to slow the car. The pursuing headlights raced past the church. But Richard knew they’d be back. Still, there’d be enough time to warn Marty, keep her safe... if he could.

He staggered from the car.

Barashi slowed his vehicle. He’d lost his quarry.

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