Evasion

Chapter Twenty-One

Today

Not another one!

Scott quickly considered his options.  Based on what he understood about these people, there was a telepathic link between them.  This meant that Herb, the security guard and any of the others in the Digi-Life building would know exactly where Scott was.

He couldn’t run back down the bridge that crossed over top of the Gardiner Expressway and East-West train tracks and into the Liberty Village neighborhood.

They’d know, through the blond man in the gray sports coat, exactly what way he was running, and could head him off.

So Scott ran toward the man who was still standing there, his arm raised, his finger pointed at Scott, decreasing the distance between them from about fifty yards to a mere thirty.

And when he got to the end of the bridge, he darted left, into the Exhibition Place grounds on the opposite side of the road of where the parking lot was and picked up his speed.

Scott ran across the field and the empty plaza of buildings to his left that he had only ever seen active and open during the Canadian National Exhibition, which took place the last couple weeks of August each year.  August was still a month away, but already a fleet of metal barricades, all stacked in neat rows, filled half of the park and adjacent parking lot. It took a long time to set up for the annual event that seemed to be the indication that the end of summer was upon the city of Toronto.

As he reached the next parking lot inside the Exhibition grounds, near where the adjacent Gardiner Expressway to the left began rising up out of the ground and became an overhead highway, he chanced a look over his shoulders.

The man in the gray sports coat was running after him.  He was still at least one hundred yards away. Despite being winded from already running, Scott had been able to increase the distance between them, which was good.  Because Scott had to start slowing down – he couldn’t keep the pace. There was stitch in his side, and the flesh wound on the side of his leg where the bullet had grazed him didn’t help matters. It was beginning to ache again.  So far there hadn’t been a significant amount of blood loss, but Scott knew that continuing to hoof it at top speed everywhere wasn’t going to help.

He need to get somewhere that he could sit down, rest, check his leg out, and get his head back on straight.

Running and crawling and falling and smashing through windows, constantly on the run and evading the slowly growing horde that was after him was getting to be a bit too much.

To his left, on the other side of the Gardiner Expressway, he could hear, and see, the Eastbound GO train slowing down to pull into the station. It would stop for a couple of minutes and then head deeper into Toronto, bound for Union Station.

Scott tried to calculate how much further he had to run in order to make it to the platform and board the train. He glanced back, seeing the man in the gray sports coat still behind him. Not having gained any ground, but not having lost any either.

He was far enough way that if Scott just made it to the train before the doors closed, the man would not likely make it on himself. And Scott could get away.

He pressed on, doing his best to increase his speed, despite the stitch in his side, despite the throbbing in his leg.

As the Gardiner continued to rise to the full elevation that it maintained on its meandering stroll through downtown Toronto, Scott could clearly see the GO train as it slowed and eventually stopped on its arrival to Exhibition station.

Gray Suit was one hundred yards behind Scott and Scott still had to run at least that far to get to the walkway that led to the station.

As he ran through the third parking lot, this one smelling of a strange combination of horse manure and urine – likely both equine and human – he spotted a few parked police cars that were empty. He wondered if he might be able to find a police officer and enlist help, but figured that there wouldn’t be enough time to explain himself before Gray Suit arrived.

And, given the manner by which grey suit and the others at Digi-Life were telekinetically connected, there was a good chance they’d be able to come up with a convincing and consistent story that could put any of Scott’s bizarre claims spiraling into nothing.

No, he simply couldn’t risk it.

The police cars were parked there anyway, as were a few horse trailers attached to Toronto police logo’d trucks.  This was a holding or parking area for them, and not an active place that officers were hanging out in anyway.

He raced past the final section of parking lot and reached the Exhibition station ticket booth area and the gate that led underneath the tracks – that same gate he had raced madly up three years earlier when he’d spotted his father from across the tracks.

He hadn’t made it in time that morning.

But he couldn’t let that happen today.

Over the track-side speaker system, Scott could hear the following announcement.

“Doors will now be closing. Please stand clear of the yellow platform lines.”

“No!” he yelled, and pushed even harder, racing down the sidewalk toward the train platform.

There were a few people scattered about. As he ran, Scott was struck with the sudden notion that perhaps this was a big mistake. Perhaps everybody here was turned and would be able to easily overpower him. Perhaps going towards any crowd was a huge mistake.

But his legs carried him forward; and as he raced past a few people who had left the train, getting off at Exhibition, they looked at him with slightly bemused stares. Being public transit riders, they likely sympathized with the poor guy who was likely about to miss his train. They’d been there, they’d all had days like that where they were just a few seconds from catching their train or their bus.

So they seemed, to Scott, perfectly normal. Not at all one of the pod-people who were after him.

That was a good sign.

He was a few yards from the nearest doorway onto the train when the latest announcement blasted.

“Doors are closing. Please stand clear. Doors are now closing.”