Saving Lucas

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Screw this," Anton sneered as he was running up the stairs. He landed at level two, out of breath, his lungs barely hanging on. He debated taking a break to catch his breath but decided against it. Whoever was the man he spoke to on the phone had made himself clear. 'Save the man,' he had said.

Anton never really feared anything. After all, he was such a badass. He grew up being the school bully, picking on everybody at school. There was even a time when he picked on someone twice his size, and ended up breaking the kid's nose. The school principal summoned him and his Mima, and had him expelled.

But this was different. They were talking about his life here. They were talking about the money. Should he choose not to obey the man on the phone, they might take away his precious money. He needed the g's. A million is a million. Heck, if saving Bin Laden from the US troops meant a million pesos, he'd gladly do it while skipping and jumping like a little girl. So the man standing on the ledge? Anton wouldn't even break a sweat.

Now, as he reached third floor, he was out of breath. Every corner of his chest felt like closing in. He slid the sliding door aside while grasping for air. When he went inside of what looked like an office, he got confused. The man wasn't there anymore: the glass window was left open. He sprinted to the window and peered outside, and saw the crowd back away from something, forming a circle at the center like a whole army of ants avoiding a droplet of water. He squinted to focus his vision, and saw what was repelling the crowd. The policeman he was talking to moments ago was sprawled along the pavement, screaming. Blood oozing from his leg, forming a small pool. Up ahead he heard sirens wailing faintly. He backed away from the window, not believing what he was seeing.

"What the—" he managed to say.

"Don't move," The man said, pointing a gun at him. He was wearing something that you'd call hip on an ordinary day. Like he was just going to the beach to stroll around. He wore a gray printed hoodie—Anton couldn't make out the print, a shark maybe—and board shorts. Yes. Board shorts. In the industrial part of the city. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Philippines.

Anton raised his hands. "What did I do? I was just trying to save the man..." his voice drifted off. Boardshorts' eyes widened and looked at something behind Anton. Boardshorts' gun did that funny jerk backwards, and the first gunshot rang through Anton's ears.

"Get down!" the man behind him exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him aside. He landed on his back, behind a working desk, and felt the air whoosh out of his lungs. He shook his head and tried to focus on what was happening when the man that was on the ledge earlier shot back, another gunshot piercing Anton's ears. The man then leapt to where Anton was, using the working desk as cover. Three more gunshots pierced the silence, each bullet landing a thud on the working desk. Wood splinters burst in the air like little fireworks, and the smell of gun powder wafted the room. Clutching the gun in his hands, the man looked at Anton and winked. Then he stood up, fired the gun twice, and grabbed Anton again, pushing him toward the fire exit.

"Run, dammit!" he exclaimed.

Anton ran down the stairs. He heard footsteps just a few flights above him, and saw the man on the ledge following. The man stopped and fired again, hitting the metal stairs with a ping.

"Run, run, run, run!" He exclaimed once more. They were nearing level one now, when a bullet pinged on the stair handle, just a few inches away from Anton's own hands. He looked up and saw Boardshorts in pursuit, preparing to fire the gun once again. Anton's eyes widened, and his body felt like it was melting. He recognized the emotion. It was fear. Pure, naked fear. He almost peed his pants when the man on the ledge pushed him off the stairs, making him fall off the railing. A black BMW was parked on the side of the street, which he hadn't notice before. How could he notice? He was running for his life, for crying out loud.