Evasion

Chapter Nineteen

Today

There was, at least according to Scott’s interpretation of what he could hear, a single person on the other side of the locked door, trying, unsuccessfully, to get in.

Scott knew, based on the hive mentality of the others he had encountered, that the rest of them; Herb, the security guard, Gary, if he was again awake, and any other employees who had already showed up, would already be aware, through whatever telepathy they employed, of Scott’s location; and they would descend upon the locked door and either break it down by sheer force, or perhaps unlock it with the security guard’s master key.

So he picked up the metal and plastic chair that was facing the executive desk, and, lifting it over his head, took a deep breath before swinging it in an overhead arc toward the glass.

Geez, he thought as the chair bounced off the glass, leaving a giant spider-web crack on it with a few pieces in the center shattered out completely, leaving a gap in the glass of more than an inch square. I’d never broken a single pane of glass my entire life. Yet this morning, in the span of less than half an hour, I will have smashed through three windows. And, not only that, but I’m getting damn good at this.  I almost smashed through in a single try.

He threw the chair against the window, breaking through the glass completely.  Then he pulled a framed print off the wall and used it to scrape the broken edges from the bottom of the window pane before climbing up onto the window sill and jumping out.

Outside, he found himself in an ally on the east side of the building that led back toward Fraser Avenue.

He ran down the alley, comforted by the simple fact that nobody had either broken or opened the locked office door yet, so, unless somebody was on an upper floor and looking down into this alley, nobody would be able to see which direction he was heading.

His car was parked in a lot of Exhibition Place, a couple of blocks south of the Digi-Life office.  It normally took him less than ten minutes to walk between the parking lot and the office, because he cut through parking lots and alleys on his way there.

At the speed he was running, however, he figured he’d be able to get to his car in less than three minutes.

That way he could be in the car, get onto Lakeshore and the eastbound Gardiner Expressway and further away from the people who were pursuing him.

There were very few people on the street as he ran down Fraser, cut across the parking lot of the abandoned old Western Bakery building, crossed Mowat Avenue and got onto Dufferin. The few people he had spotted, the closest one walking at least a block away, from their parked cars to a nearby office building, all seemed to be acting normal, as if this were a morning just like any other – and not one in which everybody had designs to kill Scott Desmond.

That made Scott’s theory about the airborne toxin being released inside of Digi-Life’s air system seem to hold a bit more weight and also offered him a sense of relief.  Now that he was putting more and more distance between himself and the building he could begin to feel a bit better that he would be safe.

A bus pulled out of the TTC station heading back up Dufferin.  The bridge itself was still under construction and closed to vehicular traffic, but there was still a pedestrian path allowing foot traffic to cross.  Scott raced down the path, passing a middle-aged male jogger in a red and black skin—tight running outfit wearing ear buds.

The jogger nodded at Scott in a single efficient dip of the head.

Normal behavior, Scott was relieved to see, but he still turned his head to ensure the jogger hadn’t been tricking him and was actually also turned.

It was nice to bump into someone who wasn’t trying to kill him.

Scott was, of course, relieved at the fact the jogger hadn’t been turned, as he highly doubted he’d be able to outrun him if the man came after him.

As he got to the far side of the bridge, he could see his silver Mustang parked near the Medieval Times building, and, standing one car over from his own, a blond man in a grey sport jacket.  Scott slowed down to a walk, relieved to be so close to getting to his car, so close to escape, but leery about the man who was just standing there.

Scott patted down his front pocket, ensuring his car keys were there, before reaching in and pulling the keys out. Still one hundred meters away from the car he triggered the door unlock function.

Previous to the headlights on Scott’s car blinking on and off twice briefly, the man in the gray sports coat had simply looked like he’d happened to be standing there, perhaps having a cigarette before either heading back inside to the Medieval Times building or getting into his car.

But when the lights on Scott’s car blinked as Scott unlocked it, the blond man swung his head around quickly, obviously looking to see who had triggered it.

Damn, Scott thought. He’s one of them.

When the man turned and spotted Scott, he froze in place, his body became stiff and then he lifted a single arm into the arm and pointed, in that Donald Sutherland Invasion of the Body Snatchers manner Scott had become used to.

A fresh chill ran down Scott’s spine.

Because of the wind blowing across the bridge Scott couldn’t hear what the blond man said as his lips moved, but he didn’t need to hear the words to know exactly what the man was uttering.

You won’t get away! You cannot evade us!