Page 69 of I Will Find You

When the cops burst open the roof door, I am ready. I have been eyeing the jump since I got up here. I don’t know how many feet it is. I don’t know if I can make it. But I am on the southeast corner of the building. I run with all my strength, my arms pumping. The wind is rushing in my ear, but I still hear the warnings:

“Stop! Police!”

I don’t listen. I don’t think they will shoot, but if they do, they do. I accelerate and time my steps so that I spring off my left foot just inches from the roof’s northwest corner.

I am airborne.

My legs bicycle-run in the air, my arms still pumping. It is dark on the neighboring roof. I can’t see if I will make it and for a moment I flash back to the cartoons of my youth, wondering whether I am going to pause running in midair like Wile E. Coyote before I drop like a stone to the ground beneath me. I feel my propulsion slow as gravity starts dragging me down.

I begin to fall. I close my eyes. When I land hard on the roof across the way, I tuck and roll.

“Stop!”

I don’t. I somersault to a standing position. Then I do the same thing again. I run, I leap, I hit the next roof. Then the next. I’m not scared anymore. I don’t know why. I feel exhilarated. Run, leap, run, leap. I feel as though I can do this all night, like I’m freaking Spider-Man or something.

When I find a roof that’s truly dark, when I think I’ve put enough distance between me and the cops on the roof of Hilde Winslow’s building, I stop and listen. I can still hear the cops and the commotion, but it feels as though they are somewhat distant. The back of the building is dark and really, how much longer can I play Spider-Man?

I find a fire escape and half run, half shimmy down it until I’m about ten feet off the ground. I stop again, look, listen. I’m in the clear. I let myself dangle for a moment from the bottom rung of the ladder and then I let go. I land hard, knees bent, a smile on my face.

When I straighten, I hear a voice say, “Freeze.”

My heart sinks as I turn. It’s a cop. He has his gun trained on me.

“Don’t move.”

Do I have a choice?

“Hands where I can see them. Now.”

The cop is young and alone. He is pointing his gun toward me while he bends his neck to talk into one of those clipped-on microphones. Once he does, this backyard will be flooded with cops.

I have no choice.

There is no hesitation, no fake, no juke. I simply launch myself straight at him.

It has been less than a second since he told me not to move. I am hoping the suddenness of my attack will catch him off guard. It is a dangerous move obviously—he’s the one pointing the gun—but the cop looks hesitant and a little scared. Maybe that will play to my advantage and maybe it won’t.

But what options do I have?

If he shoots me, okay, whatever. I probably won’t die. If I do, well, that’s a risk I’m willing to take. More likely, I’ll be wounded and end up back in prison. If I surrender peacefully, I end up in the same situation. Back in prison.

I can’t allow that.

So I lower my head and bull-rush him. He has time to start to yell “Freeze!” again, but I get there before he can complete the word. It ends up sounding more like “Free!” and because I’m hyped up and desperate, I take that as a good omen. I tackle him around the waist, jangling his utility belt and heavy vest and all the things that weigh modern cops down.

Keeping my momentum going, I follow through like a pile driver as we land hard on the concrete walk behind the townhouse. His back takes the impact hard, and I can hear the woosh sound as the air comes out of him.

He is struggling for breath.

I don’t let up.

I take no joy in this. I don’t want to hurt anybody. I know that he is just doing his job and that the job is just. But it is him or Matthew and so again I have no choice.

I rear my head back and then fire my forehead toward his nose. The head butt hits the cop hard, like a cannonball hurled at a ceramic pitcher.

Something on his face cracks, gives way. I feel something sticky on my face and realize that it’s blood.

His body goes slack.

---