Page 4 of Festive Fugitive
There will be a manhunt, with helicopters, trained dogs, and hundreds of cops, and I can’t see freedom in my future, but some tiny voice at the back of my head whispers that there’s always a chance. Camping out in the deep, deep woods no one ever goes to. Or, somehow evading capture and settling in a country with no extradition treaty with the US. For that, I’ll need way more money than my meager belongings are worth, but there’s no point counting my chickens before they’re hatched.
All I know now is I need to keep moving. To change my appearance and disappear.
Inflatables depicting festive creatures stare at me, jeering as I dash past them, bursting through the dooronly used by staff, then down the hallway, straight for the exit.
I don’t know how, but I’ve managed to lose my pursuers. Even the exit sign above the door seems to be winking at me with its wonky light.
For the split second when I slam into the door, I expect it to be locked, but no, I burst into the cold air outside, and not a soul awaits me here. No cops yet, only the twinkling lights on a row of giant Christmas trees.
I sprint through the dark parking lot like a madman and reach my car in record time. I didn’t even know I could run this fast. I rip my beard off on the way, and my jacket is already open when I get to my belongings in the back seat. I did plan for an escape, so I’m fully dressed under the Santa outfit. All I need to do in order to not appear immediately suspicious is take it off, and put on a jacket.
I change faster than Superman in a telephone booth, and I’m behind the wheel of my junk ride in no time, high on adrenaline.
I release the handbrake, then shove the keys into the ignition, turn and— nothing happens.
It’s as if I’d been stabbed with a hot poker, but when I try again, and then for the third time, my vehicle chokes, trembles… and stays dead.
This isn’t the first time this has happened—it’s a very old car, and the December cold isn’t playing in my favor either, but I wasn’t too worried about the unreliability of my ride when I parked earlier. Mostly because I never intended to pull the trigger, and the worst I expected was a fine for disturbing the peace.
That ship has sailed.
Maybe I should have chosen a car based on reliability, not how much space it has inside, but that wasn’t really an option when it has to accommodate all the shit I own.
Now, my only choice is to leave it all behind.
My car will be found, and my identity discovered along with it.
With a lump in my throat, I open the car door as I think of all the bad choices I’ve made in my life. And yet, I can’t regret my actions. Sullivan got what he deserved even if I’ll pay for revenge with my life.
My heart sinks when I spot several police cars driving into the parking lot with a squeak of wheels. They stop right by the tall Christmas trees, their headlights on me as cops flood out of the vehicles, yelling something I can’t hear with the thudding in my head.
They’re about to get me, I’m sure of it, but just as I’m on the verge of lifting my hands in defeat, the largest of the trees tips over, descending onto the vehicles like a whale crashing onto a boat in the middle of the ocean. The cops scatter, for a moment forgetting my existence in favor of saving their lives, and this is my chance.
Unbelievably, I still have one.
I’m about to shoot across the parking lot, out of sight, when I spot someone retreating into the shadows of the building, very close to the base of the collapsed tree. I swear it’s a real man, not some phantom my mind has created in its panicked state. I might be a fool, but not enough to squander a chance when it’s thrown at me, so I dash past the steel barrier at the edge of the lot and tumble down a hill, beyond the glow of the streetlights.
Thank fuck I don’t hear dogs.
Christmas miracle?
Chapter 3
Cesar
He’stoothin.Notthat he’s unattractive. But if it were up to me, I’d put him on a regimen of nutritionally-dense foods, with plenty of protein, broth for collagen, and lots of fresh vegetables, to help with whatever deficiencies he must surely be dealing with. I’ve shadowed him for the past twenty-four hours and know he hasn’t had a single bite of food in that time.
At this rate, he might collapse from hunger and exhaustion, but even then he would be in no danger. Not on my watch.
The cops must have gotten his name based on the registration of the abandoned car. It’s Elijah, but he goes by Eli on social media, so that’s how I choose to think about him as I watch his shoulders from the back of the bus. Most people won’t be able to recognize him from the old photo publicized all over the media. Since it wastaken, his features have sharpened, giving his already narrow face a fox-like appearance. And most importantly, there’s no brown left on his head, just a mix of dark and bright grays. It’s unusual on a man as young as him. Silver dusted over dark steel. A bold choice. Most men his age would have cropped it shorter to not bring attention to it, but he’s grown it into a wavy mop that reaches past his ears. Then again, maybe he just can’t afford a barber. The padded jacket he’s wearing is two sizes too big and mended in at least three places. Worst are the shoes, with one of the soles opening like a mouth when he walks.
But now that I’ve memorized his scent, I could follow him anywhere, even if he managed to disguise his appearance. He doused himself in some cheap orange and cinnamon perfume he picked up from a street seller, but as unpleasant as the intensity of that aroma is, the natural musk of Eli’s body is shining through the more the deodorant wears off. I can’t quite put my finger on it yet, but as I trail him, checking out places he touched, the scent of sand or… dust is quite prominent, as well as a hint of natural sweetness, which I long to taste straight from the source.
That’s not why I’m following him, of course, and Eli’s likely as interested in men as the vast majority of the male population, but I am free in my fantasies and imagine myself on top of his slender form, face buried between his shoulder-blades, and dick getting warm in his crack.
I spread my legs to take pressure off my half-hard cock and try to think of something else, because this is not the right time for pleasure.
Eli doesn’t seem to have anywhere to go, and I’ve been shadowing him since yesterday. It’s a miracle no one’s recognized him yet, but if that happens, I’ll be there to protect him, like I already did during that first dash fromthe murder scene. It’s the least I can do for someone who put an end to my service.
