A Step to Nowhere (13 page)

“Define your location!” the voice from the radio barked. The radio was attached to the left side of the cop’s uniform. Did they call their policemen cops?

“Be quiet,” I said. I said it slowly and threateningly, trying to pull the best of my acting abilities. “I have laser eyes. I’ll burn you in a second; you won’t have time to fart.” At this time I found a small button on the cube and pressed it. The policeman didn’t move. Only his hands rocked up and down and his tongue licked his lips. The man was quiet, but his eyes screamed with fear. “I am from Planet Two. I am a special agent with a special assignment. There will be only a heap of ashes if you try to stop me. Step aside, little man from Planet One!
Step aside
!”

The cop didn’t move.

“What’s going on?” the radio roared.

“Step aside!” I reached for the glasses and the policeman who was so brave and aggressive in the beginning, jumped away like a scared rabbit. He had a gun that he could use to make a strainer out of me in a second, but he didn’t even think of it. He held the gun tightly though, I could see his fingers turning pale. He believed in my laser eyes! It was hilarious. Well. It could be hilarious in different circumstances.

I’d almost gotten inside the car when I realized that I could use that gun myself. I’d never shoot, but details like that didn’t matter.

“Drop the gun at my feet, you little man!” I ordered, so loudly my throat hurt, but I had fun. Little man!

The man stared at me; the gun was shaking in his hands.

“Now! One! Two!”

He almost hit me in my forehead; I barely avoided it. The gun fell on the hood of the car. I grabbed it and lunged into the car. Thank heavens for cowards and fools.

I dropped the gun onto the passenger seat and pulled the card/guide out of my pocket, watching the cop’s lips moving. He was talking with his colleagues, which meant I had little—if any—time.

I could drive, but I had no problems with giving up a leadership position this time. I stuck the card into the middle of the steering wheel that looked pretty much like ours, and an automated voice immediately started talking to me.

“Would you like to follow the entered direction, Park Street Twelve?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to start now?”

“Yes!” I yelled. I was afraid to say anything more and start a discussion with the machine. It could win!

“Thank you.”

I heard the motor roar without any help from me and the car moved slowly.

“Faster!” I barked.

“The speed limit in the garage is—ten kilometers per hour.”

Like I had known how fast that was! For me it was way too slow.

I saw two policemen and one hunter running inside and the cowardly cop shook his finger in my direction. What would they tell him about my laser eyes?

“Lock the doors!” I yelled. I heard the car say
yes
and a
click
simultaneously.
Good girl.

The men ran in my direction; the car kept moving out of the garage with a speed of ten kilometers per hour and that meant slower than the men. They approached the car, yelling something, pointing their weapons at me, and the car stopped. Just stopped. It was crazy, I should tell you that, ladies and gentlemen.

“Dangerous situation,” it said.

“Open the door!” I heard the muffled order.

I looked down at the floor and to my right side. The pedal and the shift looked a little different, but they were all in the right places.

“Manual!” I yelled.

“Yes,” the car said. Something clicked at the same moment the hunter took hold of the car’s door handle. I looked into his brown eyes, pulled the shift to
Go
position, and pushed the pedal to the floor.

I didn’t hit anyone or anything, but the cops had just split seconds to jump aside and save their lives. It was good they had done it. I didn’t want to continue my wonderful adventure on Planet One with double cops’ murder.

The car flew out of the garage and I looked in the rearview mirror. The policemen ran after me; one fired. Then I saw more hunters gathering and turned my attention to the road. Running into a tree wouldn’t be a good idea.

The guide talked, ordering hastily to turn left or right, but I didn’t listen to it. I zipped along the yards, knocked down a trash can and almost did the same to a woman. I barely avoided hitting a tree, another car, and two hunters. I was lucky there weren’t many people inside the buildings’ yards, unlike the street where I had found myself right after leaving the corporation. Actually, I didn’t see any people besides that fortunate woman and the hunters, and I didn’t think that fact had anything to do with my luck.

I checked the mirror again and didn’t see hunters behind me, so I stopped to listen to what the guide was telling me. The thing insisted that I should turn left, drive eight meters then turn left again to enter the Central Street.

I followed the directions and when I drove into the traffic, I heard the howl of sirens behind me. Of course they started to chase me, what else had I expected? Would they go to the bar to discuss a theory of laser eyes? I didn’t look in the mirror, just tried to follow the route.

I was a good driver. I’d started when I was sixteen and had never been in an accident. Because I drove carefully, yes I did. Not because I was such a good girl, but because I had gotten into an accident with my friend, who had just started to drive and wanted to show off. We survived and weren’t even injured, but I had some sort of post traumatic syndrome that prevented me from speeding. I’d always followed the rules, never cut other cars off, and waited at a stop sign for a full three seconds. Any person sitting in the car with me felt comfortable.

I remembered Jason making jokes about my caution. Well, he didn’t joke for too long. One walk home from the restaurant—and he lost his sense of humor.

Now I was doing something that I usually kept myself away from. I was speeding, I was cutting off, and I was signaling (the pedal for the left foot made that trick). I discovered that I loved it. Adrenaline splashed into my blood like paste squeezed out of a tube, kicking away any fear and caution. I didn’t just try to get away from the chase (Jesus, they were
chasing
me!), I was Angelina Jolie in “Wanted”. I was a cool chick, as they say in the movies. Instead of a shapeless uniform I was dressed in leather pants and tight top, I had boots with high heels on my feet. I was queen of the road; fearless warrior. Everybody was scared of me and amazed by me.

Who would think that thoughts like that could get into my head? Especially when I was practically on a different planet and hunters were on my tail. They were on my tail for sure. The wail of the sirens kept getting louder, but all my attention was concentrated on the robot voice that sometimes was too late for my maneuvers and screamed with double force
left, left
, when I did something against its instructions. I was surprised by my driving ability and the fact that I hadn’t hit anyone yet. It was a miracle. Car horns blared from all directions and I didn’t stop for the red traffic light (or green), but I felt fire spreading inside my veins. I was a bird, diving into free fly. I was an antelope, running from a predator. No one and nothing could hold me.

That was what I enjoyed thinking. It was, until I heard a bang and then an explosion behind my back. I checked the rearview mirror and saw a column of smoke and fire; I saw a person flying through the air as if propelled by a slingshot. Somebody was even more unlucky than I had been, that was for sure. I’d seen people flying in the air, but only in a circus. I hoped he would live.

“Fifty meters to your destination,” the electronic voice said.

“I don’t understand the metric system!” I yelled.

“Repeat your request.”

“Manual,” I said, just to shut up the damn thing. Fifty meters shouldn’t be far. It’s supposed to be about one hundred and something feet. Great. Please, no explosions and no flying people.

I wanted to drive even faster, but a police car whizzed in front of me, like a wizard out of a box. It crossed the road to block me. I turned the wheel to the left, but this time luck wasn’t on my side. I didn’t get into the gap between the cars and didn’t see them dash aside to stay away from a crazy driver, instead I rammed into the side of a car in another lane. Only my car hadn’t stopped as I’d expected and the airbag hadn’t burst out, jamming into my face. The belt pushed me to the seat, cut into my ribs, and the car was thrown into the same lane I had just moved from. Not just in that lane, but into the trunk of the police car that crossed my path, turning it into an accordion. This time also, there was no airbag, only the cruel, safety belt choking me in its embrace like a lover who had lost his mind. I couldn’t breathe.

The police car bounced back, hitting a motorcycle. The man driving it fell on the police car hood and rolled down. At this moment I was supposed to finally get scared. Scream. Cover my eyes with my hands as any decent girl would do. Instead, I clenched my teeth and they slid with a squeak, shooting a chain of goose bumps down my spine. I gripped the wheel even harder and turned to a clear lane. Only my career as a stunt person wasn’t long, just a few seconds. Probably it was from a lack of experience, but instead of flying like a free bird, I hit the side of another slow-moving car. This time I stopped solidly. The air bag refused to do its job again. Maybe it was for the better. I actually didn’t know if these cars had any airbags. Maybe it was another method to fight overpopulation. If somebody had gotten into an accident, it was their problem. Their life depended on the strength of their ribs. I was suffocating, but managed to unbuckle the seatbelt. I immediately grabbed the gun, opened the door, and crawled outside. I was surrounded by smoke, wailing sirens, car horns, screams, and cursing. I was even able to understand one of the phrases. The one I had heard in many films, the one I couldn’t imagine being directed at me.

“Don’t move! Lift your hands up!”

I would like to know how they figured it. How could I lift up my hands without moving? The voice was too familiar. I recognized it right away. I followed the order as closely as I could. I raised my hands slowly, keeping the gun in the right one. The cars around me stood still, but no one had gotten out. I saw the fearful eyes of an older man in the car before me. He looked like a statue of a driver who’d peed in his pants. As if he was the one who received the order to not move instead of me.

“Throw your weapon on the ground and turn around
slowly
!”

They weren’t going to shoot me in the back. That was good. Only I wasn’t excited to stare at the gun snout or meet the eyes of my boyfriend’s double. What if he would shoot when I turned?

Can one see a flying bullet when it’s about to hit her between the eyes? I won’t be able to dodge; it wasn’t “Matrix” or some other scientific abracadabra. It’s reality, no matter how much I want it to be a dream. Thank you, Ray. Thank you so much for the wonderful thoughts you gave me. For this adventure that I became part of because of you. Could I dream of anything like this? No. So, thank you.

“Drop your weapon! Now!”

Drop it. Why had I even gotten it if I couldn’t play with it? What should I do? There were more of them and they knew how to shoot.

It seemed that time was dragging on. I unclasped my fingers and the gun fell to the ground by my feet with a flat sound. It bounced on the hilt before settling on its side.

“Turn around!”

He forgot to say
slowly.

The man in the car in front of me blinked, dispelling doubts about his state of life. I even saw his Adam’s apple moving when he swallowed. I did as I was asked.

Jason also had brown eyes and I liked it more than anything else about his appearance. Today I’d had my share of men with brown eyes, enough for a lifetime. The man who had injected me with tranquilizer had brown eyes, the one taking me to the death chamber, also. And Ray. His eyes were so dark, you couldn’t see the pupils. My brown-eyed guides of death, like they had been cast for this role in heaven. If I survived, I’d run from men with brown eyes just as far as I was able.