January 3
CHAPTER 52
Within seconds of posting, the comments rolled in like assault rifle spray, pumping Emmett full of ridicule, incredulity, and outright hate. He had a text from Lizette:Your mom’s here.
Then, a moment later:What the fuck was that post???
He fled toward the main hall. He needed to get out of the museum—clear out his bank account and maybe grab a few things from home before heading south. He’d be safe over the border. But where would he stay? Would border control let him take Bella? Could he convince Lizette to move down there with him? What was he going to do about his mom? Jesus Christ, why did she have to be theretoday of all days?
His phone lit up with a call from Lizette. He declined it and began to text her, pausing at the crescendo of sirens. Visible through a mullioned window overlooking the courtyard, a pair of cop cars screeched to a halt in front of the building.
That was fast—too fast. Someone must have ratted him out. The volunteer who’d noticed him on the stairs.
Fuck.
As Emmett reached the mezzanine balustrade, armed officers flooded the hall below. They split up, searching in different directions—leaving the hall momentarily clear.
Acting on impulse, Emmett made a break for it, hurrying down the stairs and darting into the entrance vestibule. The exit was sealed, an officer standing guard. Their eyes connected.
“Hey!”
She bolted toward him.
Emmett turned and ran. Hanging back to guard the exit, the officer shouted out to her colleagues, “Got eyes on the perp. Ground floor, heading east!”
Emmett ducked right and sprinted toward a side exit. The push bar held firm—it was locked.
He doubled back, searching for another way out, or at least somewhere to hide. But he’d worked in the admin building next door. He didn’t know all the museum’s nooks and crannies.
He noticed the brownish-red tiled staircase that led up to California Tower and darted up it. After the second floor, the steps grew steep, narrow. A black metal security gate, also locked, blocked his passage.
A pair of maintenance workers were tromping down the steps toward him, maybe headed to lunch. Ry had mentioned something about the tower being closed for renovations.
Deep in conversation as they passed through the barrier, they barely noticed Emmett, on the landing below, slip through before the gate slammed shut behind him.
CHAPTER 53
California Tower comprised 125 steps split over seven flights, the first six of which each ended in a small square room of rough concrete walls, with historical photos set up on easels for the educational tour groups that usually ran daily. Emmett hadn’t yet reached the third floor when he heard the gate rattle below him, and an officer’s voice shouted, “There he is! We need a key, get someone with a key!”
Rushing past the carillon and an old map of Balboa Park, Emmett started up the next flight of stairs, picking up the pace at the sound of the security gate slamming open and footsteps thundering up after him.
The tolling of the carillon reverberated through him to the tune of the Westminster Quarters. As he maneuvered through the fourth floor, again finding nowhere to hide, the chimes marked the noon hour with twelve long tolls, each as dour as a death knell.
Dong!
More stairs. Emmett pushed on. He could feel his adrenaline fighting the depleting effects of the Obexity still saturating his bloodstream. His leg muscles flamed. His heart pummeled the walls of his chest.
Dong!
Air scraped through his lungs like shards of glass as he grasped the railing for stability. Gravity had strengthened its downward pull on his feet, not as if he was losing steam, but almost like his body was gaining mass.
Dong!
No—hewasgaining mass. His stress had activated the drug. With a rush of horror he perceived the fattening of his arms and legs, the expanding flab of his stomach filling out the billowing sack of his hoodie.
Dong!
The officers’ footsteps crashed through the room below. Grinding his muscles into action, he forced his bloating body up the next flight of stairs, hoping the final landing would provide cover. Every stair climbed felt like a step backward in time, as he gained back the weight Obexityhad sheared off. His body expanded in undulating waves as he dragged himself up, weight bearing down on his joints with a painful gnashing of cartilage and bone.
