Escape

Dancing across the hood of the car, I could see the police car getting closer. Lights and sirens, it was all happening. Would I make it?

I rushed down the alley and up a fire escape as the car screeched to a halt, unable to proceed up the narrow pathway between the buildings.

“Freeze,” said the fat one as he raised his gun.

I ignored him and ducked in an open window on the third floor. I heard gunfire and a bullet ricochet somewhere close.

“What…” said a young girl as I rushed between her and the cartoons on the big screen. I kept moving, knowing I had to get out the door before the resident adult discovered me.

The front door, fairly standard for New York, had several locks, which added to the time pressure. After a few minutes, I was out, and escaping down the stairs. Second floor. First floor. Lobby, then bursting through the front door and out onto the street. One of the cops was leaning on the bonnet smoking. I presumed the other to still be in the alleyway. I turned and sprinted in the opposite direction.

I tucked my squeegee into my belt and made the mental note not to attend to vehicles at that intersection for a while.