THE TITAN EXPERIMENT

CHAPTER 3 - Icy Chase

Sarah blew by Wolf with a quick burst of speed, his gloved-hand grazing the sleeve of her coat, her legs pumping up and down with thunderous strides. Glancing back, she saw him weaving through a crowd, the mass of people hindering his pursuit. She directed her attention to the path ahead and to the question that sent a baffling chill down her spine. How did he find her? He was waiting for her at the coffee shop, anticipating her next move, that much she knew. But that was ridiculous. She had purchased an alias with a fake driver's license, credit chips, the works. The guy she used to create her new identity, to keep her obscure, hidden in the shadows, promised he was legit, promised he wouldn't sell her out. She had no reason to doubt him, but she had no reason to trust him, either. The truth: Wolf could have used several ways to track her to New York.

Another quick look behind her. Wolf bulldozed through the crowd, knocked a woman down with his elbow, her startled scream dying as her head hit the pavement. The collision displayed his willingness to do whatever it took to complete his mission and subdue the target.  

People scattered like sheep. A woman cried out. A man shouted, an angry demand to stop, but to no avail. Another man cut off Wolf's path. Not a wise decision. Wolf steamrolled through the blockade like a running back through a linebacker.

Sarah pushed her legs harder, willing herself to run faster. Her lead grew to thirty feet, the length of a storefront—a department store showcasing the latest in women's swimwear—nothing but a streak of thin garments hugging the curvy figures of virtual holographic models in Sarah's peripheral vision. As she ran, her scarf unraveled and flew away. She reached for the garment but missed it altogether, her fingertips slicing through the night air. She groaned in frustration; she liked that scarf.

Back to the question of how he found her. How? Just how did he get a ping on her location? New York had surveillance cameras at every street corner. Maybe Wolf conspired with the NYPD, accessed their feeds, spotted her among the crowd? Followed her here. Filtering through tons of footage could take years, but Wolf had nothing but time on his hands, along with a psychotic obsession with finding her ever since she returned to Earth.

Sarah felt a fire burning like hot coals in her mind. Someone had sold her out for sure. Then she remembered a day in Central Park. A few weeks ago, a drone had swung in for a closeup as she jogged early that morning. She assumed it was someone playing with a toy, getting high resolution pictures of the park, maybe a pervert checking her out from afar. But now she had her doubts. It must have been Wolf. He must have paid off the guy who sold her the new identity, or pumped him for information, or a more likely scenario, tortured him for the intel and then killed him.

One thing was certain: she couldn't go back to her apartment. If he had found her this close to Times Square, then he must know where she lived and followed her here. Who knew how long he had been in New York and waited to make his move? He could have been spying on her the entire night, waiting in the shadows to pounce, while a trance captivated her and made her oblivious to his presence.

Sarah sprinted across Amsterdam Avenue.

A pair of headlights screeched toward her. She tried to sidestep the oncoming vehicle, but she couldn't get out of the way. Her hands smacked the hood of an aerodynamic car, a jet on wheels. Fortunately, the car came to a halt without hitting her.

The driver laid on the horn.

Sarah tensed up from the jolting stop, her gaze rivaling the man's wild-eyed look. With his widows up, the sealed interior of the vehicle trapped the sound of his ranting voice. His lips flapped like an angry mime, his crooked finger jabbing an accusation. Sarah winced, mouthed a pitiful sorry, and raced away.

Buildings towered above her. Lights blurred by out of the corner of her eye, but she narrowed her vision, focusing on the path ahead. If she could cover this last stretch of sidewalk, she would have a chance.