The UIO man left the door hanging and I went to pack a bag and find men’s clothing to change into. We would leave once she got home. There was a camp grounds a few hours from the city that had cabins to rent. It would be a good place to rest up and sort things out in my head. Oh, my poor head. I had lost count of how many times I had been knocked out over the past thirty six hours, four maybe? Any more than twice was serious enough. Trying to figure out how many was an exercise in futility. I might as well have been in a coma. I knock on the doorframe.
I sit by the window with my backpack. The few things I had in her apartment fit into the one bag. I didn’t dare go to my own. With the way they searched this place, I expected my building to be leveled. In relative safety the few oxygenated cells in may start going to work. Setting aside the obtuse reality of modern Nazi, secret multi-national detectives, and Hitler’s secret gold, left me to realize that all I had was the obtuse realities and the further realization that no amount of trash talk was going to get me out of the situation smelling like new car.
I check the wall clock. She was close to running late. The clock was shaped like a cat, its eyes scanning the room once a second. I questioned him, why he hadn’t backed me up earlier. Left, right, left, right, tick, tock, tick, the time began to wear me anxious. I tossed my papers into the bag and made my way for the stairs.
It was stupid to have waited so long to get her and get out. The entire morning! Giving them a chance to notice me gone, to go look for me, for her. I found myself running down the street despite my injuries. My feet hitting the ground twice as often as the cat scanned the kitchen. I stop, and stand holding my knees as I wait for the train. My head had opened up from the sweat and the pressure, I was dripping. A homeless man reeking of urine gives me some space. He train pulls in. Her train continues on. The platform clears and she is not here.
I remember the sound of my feet slapping against the pavement. I looked like I was running from a serial killer. Half dressed, bleeding, sweating, and sobbing. I looked like a drug addict after a hit and run. Three nine minute miles later I am in front of her hospital. Out of shape, gasping and heaving. I throw up. Through my blurry eyes I see the big and thin man come out the front door. They are alone, unless they get to me. I turn to run and nearly pass out.
I turn back to see them even closer. They are acting very casual, I must look worse than I imagined. They would be on me soon, and it was unlikely that I was going to be able to put up a fight. They split up and move to both ends of the sidewalk. Doubled over I turn and look into traffic. If I make a scene, and don’t get hit, I might get out of this.
I hit the curb and a two toned green Buick nearly hits me. The breaks make a louder noise than the horn and the UIO man sticks his head out the window. Through the rear window I see her climb over the front seats and pop the back door open. “Lets go!” one or both of them yell. I must have looked like the happiest man in the world.