Vision swirling, he moaned, then vomited.
He just needed to close his eyes for a second, then he’d be ready to go.
One second…
His eyes popped open, and he was lying on the cold ground, face wet with vomit. He wiped his mouth and groaned, wobbling as he tried to push himself up.
His eyes tried so hard to close again. He slapped his cheeks, forced himself to sit up, but the pounding in his head intensified with every move. He crawled into the car, so tempted to curl onto the glass-covered leather and sleep.
“No,” he growled, forcing his fists to close around the pillowcases.
He needed to find a place to hide. Then he could rest. Forcing himself to his feet, he slipped in the pile of puke.
“Fuck!”
His leg buckled, and he crashed to his knees. His leg wouldn’t hold. Pain seared up his thigh. His eyes refused to focus. His body wasn’t cooperating.
Clenching his teeth, he dragged the pillowcases away from the car. They were so heavy.
He limped toward the exit, each step sending fire through his leg as his chest burned.
His skull throbbed as if split open. Dried blood crusted to his face.
The streets were chaotic.
He kept to the shadows. His steps shuffled with an uneven gait. Keeping his head down, he moved with no destination in mind. When he found an alley, he rested. When he nodded off, he forced himself to get up and keep moving.
Footsteps everywhere.
Trust no one.
Keep moving.
Hide.
Survive.
He walked for hours. Neighborhoods changed around him. Gone were the affluent buildings, dwindling into dark decay.
Streetlamps flickered, and shadows held shapes that urged him on. His leg screamed with every step. His vision blurred, doubling and playing tricks on him.
He vomited again. Bent over in an alley, retching until nothing came up but bile. His head pulsed with a painful heartbeat. The world tilted sideways, and he grabbed a brick wall to keep from falling.
“Jesus, what happened to you?”
He stumbled, clutching the money at his back as a group of shadowy figures approached. Brick buildings sagged with age, and darkly lit windows flickered overhead. Somewhere, music played, tinny and distant.
He couldn’t tell how many there were. Three, maybe four.
“Stay back.” His voice was gravel, scraping like knives over slate.
“Oi, love?—”
“Don’t come any closer!” he snapped, stumbling as he tried to stand upright.
They were women, but they outnumbered him. “You okay there, love? You’re bleeding pretty bad.”
“Don’t—” His voice cracked when his back hit the wall. “Don’t touch me.”
