Shadow Walker

Chase

Sirens cut the air, high and piercing, bouncing through the streets like pinballs so it was impossible to tell how close they were or from which direction they were coming. Heat imprints left disorientating swirls in his optics, which he threw into the gutter to keep from falling, along with his palm pod, not having time to re-attach the tracker shield Lazar had given him.

He ran so fast, the path couldn't keep up, resulting in a permanent stumble. The buildings drew back, like delicate produce on a slow moving conveyor belt and Dec wished for the grip of wheels and the roar of an engine beneath his feet to draw them back faster. He took a sharp turn right, then left, hoping to lose the police on the corners. But adrenaline and the element of surprise could only do so much where years of refusing to join Tommy at the gym had built butter between his muscles.

The sirens switched to a low warning buzz as the wasps closed in—strobe lights flashing atop their black and yellow sedans and illuminating the sandstone facades of the buildings all around. There was nothing but wall to his left and window to his right—no place to hide the trackpad or himself. In the rush of the moment, Dec was taken back to Quarry Cove and the time he and Tommy had lit spray cans on fire just to see what would happen and bolted when the wind had pushed the flames towards the pine forest. It was the only other time he'd run so hard he thought his lungs would explode and his heart would race right out of his chest.

The inevitable happened then. Like a switchboard pulled from the plug, his breathing failed and his legs collapsed at the knees like a newborn calf's. His hands flew up to break his fall and his eyes fluttered shut in expectation of impact when a firm grip caught him by right armpit and right forearm and pulled him to his feet. He waited for the cold clamp of handcuffs around his wrists.

None came.

He opened his eyes to stare directly into Rain's dark irises, which were narrowed like two copper cresols and hooded by the storm clouds of her downwards-drawn eyebrows. Her moon face was slick with sweat and stuck with wayward raven hair that had come loose from her ponytail. Her laboured breath ghosted his face, yet her words remained steady. "Have you got the trackpad?"

Dec nodded. In his exhaustion, it came out like teetering servile bow. He should've been surprised to find she knew about the trackpad, or that she was still in Atunda when she was supposed to be on a ship returning North. But he had no room left in his mind for that.

"Breathe, Hancock,' Rain's command-sure voice told him.

He heaved a lungful of air in compliance, while Rain continued, "For a second there, I thought you wouldn't get the hint about the Blue Illusion."

And Dec realised, a little foolishly, that Rain had been the bartender. That Rain's idea had allowed him to gain the trackpad. That Rain had kept helping him, even though she was no longer under orders to do so.

"Is that really what I did back there?" he said, after he'd taught his breath enough to form words. "Like that thing you did back in the tunnels during the dust storm."

"It's as I've been trying to tell you," Rain said. "You're a Shadow Walker. You're one of us."

Shadow walker.

The word was no longer a cruel joke, but left him feeling as though he was standing on the edge of a cliff, contemplating his chances of surviving a fall. He was not the type to believe in the impossible and yet, he'd seen his hand disappear with his own eyes.

She'd been right all along. Everything he thought he knew about the way of the world was wrong. He couldn't control his abilities. And she was the only person who knew how to navigate this new world.

But he didn't want to need her.

"So it was your voice in my head then," he said. "Or maybe it's been your voice the whole time. Helping me to hear. Telling me what to do."

"My voice?" Rain said. "You've been hearing voices?"

Dec hesitated. The incredulity in Rain's voice suggested the voice hadn't been hers. And there was something in the way she was looking at him now, that made him regret mentioning it.

Rain went silent for a long, drawn out moment, one in which he almost forgot they were being pursued. Then, abruptly as though physically trying to shake off her own question, she stepped back and pointed. "They've found us," she said, pushing him aside to get a better view the street behind. "There's a protest march approaching. Turn left onto the Terrace and you'll lose the police to the crowd. Cross to the other side of the overpass. Wait for me at the train station."

He opened his mouth to ask her about the voices again, when she spun away from him, turning to face an onslaught of approaching police cars, which had pulled into to the curb with rubber screeches. "Go!" she yelled as doors slammed, headlights blinded and heavy footsteps drew closer.

"Stand down," a voice yelled though a megaphone. "You're under arrest for theft. Place your hands over your head and get down on your knees."

Dec instinctively shrank back from the blinding headlights and began to raise his hands. Rain shoved him in the chest. "Go," she growled again. "Now."

When he didn't move, her hand flew up and caught the plain of his cheek. Hard. The sound was like the crack of a whip and the impact like a spur. "Run," she roared.

Dec's legs moved of their own accord, knocking into each other before unravelling in an ungainly sprint. Behind, the dull thud of Rain's flat rubber shoes met the heavy duty whomp of the police officer's boots. There was a sickening thump, a low moan, and a gruff exclamation of pain. He chanced a look back. Two officers lay sprawled on the footpath, arms wide and legs parted as though making snow angels in the concrete. Rain was a blur of movement, ducking and weaving as three more offices raised their guns.

Had Dec not been so terrified, he might have been struck by awe. Rain was as intangible as a downpour caught in a changing wind, nothing but sheer, watery movement, seeming to disappear in one eye-blink, then reappear the next. The officers' pistols drew wayward figures of eights in the air—withholding fire until they could get a clear shot. As he rounded the corner, a crack of gunfire left his ears ringing and a hollow in his chest as though he'd been the one shot through. He wanted to check if Rain was okay, but in the next moment, he was swept into the slip stream of a tsunami procession so powerful, he had no choice but to go with the crowd or risk falling beneath the crush of feet.