The Blood In the Beginning (13 page)

‘Are you healing?'

I rolled my right shoulder, still out of the sling. ‘Good enough.' I heard traffic in the background. ‘Where are you again?' Had he gone to my apartment? That would be on the creepy side of surprising.

‘Hospital. No sign of your stalker?'

‘Plenty of signs.' Since when did the ER lose its soundproofing? ‘But I haven't been stalked in over twenty-four hours, if that's what you mean.'

‘I wanted to make sure you had this number.'

You and Cate both.
‘I do. Thanks.'

‘Stay safe.'

‘No argument there.' I ended the call and turned off my phone. Perplexed didn't begin to describe it, but I wasn't going to let it addle my brain. I had too many other things on my mind. The biomedical library was a hike from Tom's student housing.
Good.
I wanted the exercise to loosen up healing muscles and joints. Also, it would give my tail something to do too. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the green Subaru start up. I took in a lungful of air, and coughed it straight back out. Smog levels were high, and I smelled every murky particle; I don't think I'll ever get used to it. On the up side, it would probably make for a spectacular sunset.

I stuck to the sidewalk most of the way, then cut across a green strip to Charles E Young Drive South. Fifteen minutes later, the doors to Louise M Darling Library slid open, and the cool, dry, canned air hit me. I went straight to the reception desk with my request and ID, ignoring the stale scents. It was better not to think about where those nitrogen and oxygen molecules had been. The middle-aged librarian scanned my student card into his machine, clicked a few times and asked for my digital signature and password. I tapped it into the handheld, and went to the nearest bank of computers. I did a quick check for Tom. He didn't appear to be around.

There was a free machine in the back row so I wouldn't have too many distractions. It wasn't easy, resisting the temptation to search for more info on Rossi's work, but catching up on studies had to come first. I was deep into it when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I jumped out of my seat, found my balance and readied for a front snap kick to the jaw. By then, my internal facial recognition software clicked in and I relaxed.

‘Hey, it's me.' Valery had both hands on her chest, her mouth slightly open. ‘Remind me never to surprise you again.' She gasped a few breaths.

I laughed. ‘Sorry.' Val and I were lab partners in embryology and had spent some productive nights studying for exams. She was a house cat, though, not much for adventure. The mere mention of the word MMA frightened her, let alone clubbing. She'd make an awesome pathology team very happy someday. That was her aim. We hugged briefly, me staying as far away from her personal space as possible.

‘You missed labs this week.'

‘Out of town. Do you have notes?'

She did, and wasn't opposed to sharing them. She also had a lot to say about Daina and Poseidon. In the end, it wasn't much more than I already knew, save for the lab notes. Those were helpful. We did a few practice tests online, compared results and chatted some more.

‘I gotta go, Ava. I'm on my bike and don't have a light.'

When had the sun set?
Time flies when you're studying ribosomes, cytoplasm and chemotaxis mobility.
My stomach growled and I wondered what Tom was cooking for dinner. I saved my files, shut down the comp and walked out with Val. She unlocked her bike and headed toward Manning Drive. We waved goodbye and I turned the opposite direction to catch the bus home. Five minute ride, perfect timing.

The footpath took some navigation. People were going every which way, crossing the streets, all in a rush. In contrast, traffic crawled alongside, at a near standstill, brake lights flashing green, or to the rest of the world, red. Rush hour. A breeze came through the hedge of acacias, shaking yellow blossoms to the ground. I caught the scent of pizza. Somebody had just gotten takeaway.

I spotted the green Subaru parked two blocks from the Amtrak bus stop, sandwiched between a Volkswagen and a white SUV. It was tempting to walk over and tap on the window, lean in and have a little chat with Lee and co., or whoever was in there, but Rourke would chew me a new one if I pulled anything that silly. This was as much about catching the perp as protecting me. I couldn't resist glancing back. Two in the front, both reading newspapers. Classic.

The foot traffic thinned near the bus stop, and the cars started speeding up. I took a seat on the bench to wait. Everyone else hustled by. A lot of students would walk it and save the bucks. I probably would too, but couldn't resist the chance to be dropped ten feet from Tom's apartment complex. I checked messages on my phone, for something to do.

Cate had sent one. She wanted to meet up soon. I replied with a quick
4 sure
.

Tom had messaged asking if I still liked salmon. I texted back,
Hell yes, home in ten
. I was feeling quite demonstrative this evening.

He messaged again,
My friend's here … k?

I answered,
Cool.
No heart. My stomach growled again.

Val sent a few more pages of notes straight to my Cloud-Box. She was thorough. Before I could respond to her, the bus pulled up bringing a gust of dried leaves, diesel fumes and litter. I had to wait while a dozen people got off, then I climbed aboard, swiped my pass over the scanner and looked for a seat.
Wow. Empty
. It was just me, the driver, and someone sleeping in the back, head resting against the window, dark blue hoodie pulled over their face. I wondered if the driver would wake them up at their stop. I swung into the first available seat, front row, opposite the driver's side. The turn indicator went on, and the driver waited for a gap in the flow. Finally, we pulled out, moving through the gears and up to speed with the traffic. Streetlights flashed by, along with building fronts, trees and rushing pedestrians. I stayed at the edge of my seat. It was a short ride.

My stop was practically on top of Tom's Westwood Plaza apartment, four or five minutes, max. When I reached for my phone to check messages, my shoulder tweaked and it slipped out of my hand. Saved by the shockproof case, yet again. I bent to pick it up. My shoulder yelped this time and I fumbled the phone again. While I was down there near my boots, something caught my eye.
A rubber band?
No, a ribbon. I dropped the phone back into my bag. Seeing the ribbon had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, not that it would trigger a bomb or anything. I mean, a delicate bit of satin? I had to force my hand to keep steady as I picked it up and examined it: yellow, new, thin.

Someone sniggered behind me. I snapped around and faced a dude, only an arm's length away. He hung onto the overhead railing with one arm, head tilted down toward me. The hoodie obscured his face, brown hair falling into his eyes, but it didn't hide the markings painted on his chin. ‘That's for you, Ava.'

Reflexes screamed at me to act, but I kept it under control. I glanced at the ribbon and made to pocket it, then lightning fast went for my ankle holster, the one that wasn't there.
Shit.

He pulled a gun and pointed it between my eyes.

‘Don't shoot,' I said, my hands flying up without thinking.

The driver turned. ‘Hey!' He was reaching across the dash. Couldn't see what for.

Psycho-stalker fired.

Three shots rifled past me, straight at the bus driver. My ears rang as the driver slumped over the wheel. Dark patches bloomed on his shoulder, triceps and under one arm. I needed to breathe, but my lungs weren't responding.

Stalker laughed as he hung there, sighting the gun back at my face. The mask was skin smooth, like war paint. It covered his eyes in black, making them look hollow. Lines ran from his scalp to his brow, his lower lip to his chin. He started to speak, but the bus thumped over the median strip, clipped a tree branch and launched straight toward oncoming traffic. I ended up on my hands and knees while blue hoodie tumbled down the aisle. The driver spilled to the floor, freeing the wheel to spin.

I gripped the seat, pulling up, ready to spring for the driver's seat. Before I could make a move, the bus sideswiped a truck. My head cracked into the window and everything blazed white. I tried to blink the overexposure from my eyes. We hit the kerb. The bus groaned and tipped on two wheels. Grinding sounds came through the metal and jarred the back of my teeth. Sparks flew and the smell of hot steel shot up my nose. A tyre popped as we pitched over.

The bus skidded on its side. I tumbled, hands and arms cradling my head. Twisting metal and breaking glass rolled with me. I smacked the wall, then floor, went airborne for one awful moment and landed on my back. The bus screeched to a halt. I shot forward, but the driver's body blocked me from smashing into the dash. When everything stopped, I found myself face to face with a corpse. His dead eyes still held a look of pain and pure terror. As my vision shrank further and further away, I couldn't help wondering about the spiritual ramifications of experiencing such an intense emotion right before death.
Can't be good.

* * *

BangBangBang.
What was that? Not gunshots. More like someone hitting a tin shed with a baseball bat. It mixed with the growing sound of hissing steam, water spraying and a rattletrap, spitting engine about to die. Bus crash. I registered that much. My eyes opened to a blurred reality, the world fuzzed-out, not a hard edge to be seen.
BangBangBang.
I blinked and wobbled to my knees, checking behind me for the sound. The bus rocked, moving in time with every kick of psycho-stalker's leg. He was trapped under a crushed seat and bashed it with his free foot, trying to break free. The impact stretched the metal like taffy. He'd nearly wrenched himself lose.
Holy fuck.

I couldn't move, but I needed to, fast.
Go, Sykes! Get out!
I turned back to the windscreen, which was on its side, along with the rest of the bus.
Escape, damn it. Or you're dead next.
It took everything I had to struggle to my feet. My back hunched, unable to fully straighten. The windscreen was laced with fractures, but the laminated safety glass held.
BangBangBang.
Metal snapped as the seat finally gave up. He was free. ‘Aaa-vaa.' His singsong voice was a blast of adrenaline to my brain.

Without looking back, I dove over the driver's body. A small fire extinguisher was mounted under the dash. I ripped it free and threw it at the corner of the windscreen. The glass popped like a cat food can lid and I flung myself out, hitting the street hard on hands and knees. Sounds and sensations blurred. Nothing registered.
Where the hell is this?
I stood.
Keep moving.

Slowly the world came back into focus. The bus blocked a crossroads. Cars were gridlocked both ways, horns honking and sirens whirling in the distance. Someone broke free from the gathering crowd and started toward me. I felt panic mode take over again as I turned away from the scene. Lumbering in a drunken gait, my knees kept threatening to buckle.
Get the hell out of here!
It was my only clear thought.

I picked up momentum, orienting myself as I limped-ran toward a side street. ‘Okay,' I said with an exhale. ‘Familiar territory.' This connected up with Charly E so the UCLA police station was only a block or so away. If my perp followed, I'd lead him straight there. I started to hope the bastard would chase me now. They'd actually catch him then. Best-case scenario, for sure. I was getting real tired of these surprise hook-ups.

Half a block later, the street turned into a minefield of concrete, rebar, flights of stairs leading to nowhere, broken windows and freestanding walls. A real Escher nightmare. Right, the construction site. Of course. They were demolishing these ruined buildings. As I navigated the rubble, the floodlights that were usually on all night went out.
Gee, wtf?
On the positive, it gave me a chance to check over my shoulder.
Just me, so far.
I focussed ahead, tightened my backpack straps and ran hard, but not for long.