Stomach in freefall,I dropped three stories, vaguely aware of the window clattering to the ground.I really hoped that I wouldn’t do the same.
I hit the awning of the ground floor shop.The taut material didn’t have much give so I hit hard when I landed.Agony shot through my left side.A low moan of pain escaped my lips as I rolled to my knees.I barely heard the shouts of the people on the walkway below over my thudding pulse.
“You won’t get away!”
That made it through the haze and I glanced up.Both men leaned out the window, masks still in place.Shoulder Guy gripped his wounded arm.Even from this distance, I knew his gaze promised retribution.I felt bad about leaving Bob up there with them, but my safety had to come first.That was a lesson from my childhood.
I had to keep moving.
Ignoring the pain in my left side, I scrambled to the side of the awning.Hooking my hands on the edges, I flipped over the side.The weight of the tool bag threw me off center and I swung wildly.Between the pain and the uncontrolled swinging, my left shoulder couldn’t hold steady and I lost my grip.I dropped awkwardly onto the walkway below.The impact jarred my already battered body.
“Watch it!”Someone stepped abruptly around me.
“Sorry!”I took a moment to catch my breath.A few people rushed toward me, exclaiming about security and paramedics and wondering if I was okay.
I embraced the pain, using it to make myself seem fragile.“Those men...they broke into my home.I was so scared.”
Some of the bystanders looked up.The men scrambled away from the space where the window had been.
An older woman patted me on my left shoulder and I flinched away.“Ow.”
“You’re safe now.”She offered me a reassuring nod and pulled her comms out of her pocket.“We’ll get security here to take care of you—and them,” she added with a dark look.
“Thank you,” I said and meant it.Mostly.I truly did appreciate perfect strangers coming to my aid.But that was the problem too.Theywerestrangers and any of them could be working with my attackers.
Maybe everything was fine.But I didn’t trust it.Couldn’t trust it.I wasn’t wired that way.What I needed was a place to hide.Catch my breath.Eat my cold noodles.Figure out a plan.Maybe then I’d be willing to talk to security.
But not right now.
As more people stepped forward, sharing what they’d seen or heard, I tucked my tool bag close and stepped back.When it didn’t seem that I was recognizably the center of attention, I melted into the stream of people on the walkway.
Maintaining a steady pace and not limping was difficult.Somehow, I needed to move fast enough to get away, but not too fast to draw attention, all while not screaming in pain as my hip and side and basically everything yelled at me for jumping out the window.
Gritting my teeth, I increased my pace long enough to join a large group of people.I hovered on the edges, hoping there was safety in numbers.They were heading back toward the commerce center.It was still dinner time, so maybe I would be able to lose myself in the crowds until I could find a place to lay low.
Grateful that someone else was making decisions on where to go for the moment, I focused on steadying my breath and stopping my hands from shaking.The adrenaline rush from diving out the window—oh my god, what was I thinking?—was wearing off.
Distracted, I didn’t realize my group had gone into a club until I came face-to-face with the bouncer.“Dress code,” he growled, looking me up and down with a sneer.
Shit.
I looked down at my coveralls.They’d been covered in grease and grime even before I went out the window.Now the blue-gray fabric looked worse for wear.Heat flushed my cheeks.I definitely wasn’t dressed for the club.
“Sorry, wrong turn.”I stepped out of line and quickstepped until I was out of sight of anyone who’d witnessed my rejection.
Turning a corner, I sagged against the wall and considered my options.I couldn’t go back to my apartment, not with those guys hanging around.While the station was technically open at all times, most people and shops hewed to a regular day and night cycle.I could lose myself in the dinnertime crowds and maybe a bit later, but eventually, the commerce center of the station would empty and I’d be mostly alone.
I shifted my tool bag and searing pain flared in my left side.I needed food and sleep—not necessarily in that order—and I needed it soon.
The station housed a couple of med clinics where I could get patched up, but those felt too exposed.Maybe I could lose myself in the station’s service tunnels?I shook my head at the ridiculousness of that thought.Surely that was something that only happened in the movies.
Outside of my apartment, the only place I truly felt at home was on the repair docks.
My breath caught.Was that the answer?
Did the men who’d broken into my home know that I worked on the docks?Would they expect me to go there?
Did it matter if they did?I’d spent most of my time on those docks.I knew them better than they ever could.
