A few more miles to the police station. So I'll drive with lights out, at inconsistent speeds and take unpredictable turns to hopefully confuse our pursuers long enough. I'll hear or see any cars that might show up. If they're Demons, though, they might not need cars.
I'm starting to worry about Alice, too. Is she even safe to be in the car with? She's been talking nothing but crazy.
Not that the car was safe to begin with. The car just suddenly died.
I had instinctively stomped down with my left foot the moment I felt the engine die. Thank you, habits and cheap, old, unwanted manual transmission car from the junkyard. I shift the car into neutral, allowing it to coast away. If someone's watching from the distance, hopefully the car can confuse them.
It felt like something exploded from under the hood. I frantically turn the key, but nothing's cranking. No matter what I do, electronically and mechanically, this car is dead.
"Alice, we're getting out now." My hands are shaking. My tunnel focus relaxes for a moment, allowing the severity of the situation to fully sink in.
I'm being chased. One of the people I live with and one of my oldest friends were just brutally murdered in my own home. The perpetrators have found us, and are closing in. And they're going to kill us.
I jump out of the still moving car and gesture Alice to follow. She doesn't.
The car drifts through the oddly quiet residential streets with the little momentum it still has left. I've essentially just killed Alice. She's practically bait now, and no one will open a door to help her. This is District 1. If there's a Demon on the loose, common knowledge is that you keep your door shut and let the Hunters finish the business. There are no civilian heroes. Only casualties.
That also means no one will open their door for me, either. Wasting my time by crying for help will only get me caught sooner and potentially kill another family.
I've lost too much time. I will hate myself for this later, but now I need to focus on my own survival. If she has her own plan, or just given up, I need to leave her to it. There were no cars tailing me. If they're on foot, then hopefully that means I have enough time to get out of here.
I stop at the next block. I hide in the yard of the house beside me because of what just caught my eye. A suspicious group of three men. They haven't noticed me yet, so I have to stay put. If they ARE demons, they'll hear my footsteps—even from that distance.
"So, what do we do about it?" One of the men asks the towering man in front. "You saw. Cesar's body is a mess."
"We'll sort that out after we find Alice." The man in front answers with authority. "For now, we get away from here."
I can't hear the rest of their conversation, but I heard enough. Cesar and Alice were involved in something, and now I've been dragged into it.
I wait for the three men to turn the next corner. After enough time for them to pass, I quietly, but quickly, run like hell in the opposite direction.
Time to start using these back alleys. I don't know exactly where to run, but I can figure that out once I'm out of the danger zone. I'm sorry Alice. I tried to save us. To save you. But you just wouldn't get out of the car.
I suppress the excuses for dooming Alice, and successfully make it out of the residential area and into downtown. These alleys are a great hiding place and shortcut, though. I can hide behind a dumpster or something. I think I can take a moment to breathe.
Until the wind is knocked out of me.
The back of my head is throbbing, and my vision is blurred by the throbbing pain from the impact. The stone wall behind me is hard enough to crack my skull against, I think to myself. I don't want to think about this right now.
"You're going to start talking. I ask a question, and you give a direct answer." An alarmingly familiar voice commands as she seats herself on top of me, pinning me down. "What were you doing in that house? Where is the woman you were with?"
My eyes unconsciously reject bringing the figure above me into focus. Denial invades every ounce of my being, mentally and physiologically. I don't want to see this face. Not like this.
"Talk! Why were you following me? Who sent you!? What else do you know!?" She reaches down for something, and the noises below me sharpen my vision instantly. My eyes focus on the cold, metallic silver pressed against my forehead in terror. The woman's face behind it fills me with both disbelief and despair.
Janine Atlasz has a gun against my head.