Faith’s Very Bad Day

FAITH’S VERY BAD DAY

“You’re burnt!  Get out now!” said the voice on other end of phone.  

Faith looked around.  She could feel the panic starting in the pit of her stomach, roiling her guts, nausea flooding her body, her vision dimming at the edges.

Not now!  Not now.  Get your shit together, and get out!  MOVE!

She snapped herself out of the shock response, and leapt into action.  She ran into her bedroom, grabbed her go-bag, leaving everything—everything she owned—behind, and fled the apartment.  She took the stairs, two at a time, down to the underground parking garage.  But she stopped, knowing that there might someone waiting for her to run into the garage in a panic on the other side the door, and she’d be caught.

Standing to the left of the door, she rose up on her tiptoes, peeking through the wire mesh glass into the car park. She’d been right to be cautious.  There was a man loitering around her car, pretending to read his phone, but his eyes continuously scanned the parking garage.   

Damn it!

Time for Plan B.  She moved away from the door and headed back up the stairs to the main level and headed towards the back door of the apartment building that led into an alley running the length of the building.  But there was no window on this door.  She didn’t know what to do.  Did she take a chance and use the back door, hoping that no one waiting on the other side for her?  Or did she go for Plan C?

Obviously it had to be Plan C.  Plan B was too uncertain—someone would either be waiting for her, or the coast would be clear.  It was an unknown.  But she hated Plan C.  Plan C was scary and dangerous.  Plan C was only to be used as a last resort.  She didn’t even know if she could physically do Plan C.  But she had no choice.  It was either Plan C or take her chances with Plan B.  She moved to the stairwell and started her climb to the roof.  Long ago, when she’d first moved into the building, she’d managed to procure a key for the roof.  She didn’t know if she would ever need it, but better safe than sorry was her motto.  And a good thing too, because she needed that key right now.

She climbed quickly.  She was in good physical condition and the climb was easy—she flew up the stairs.  But getting to the roof was only the first part of Plan C.  She climbed as quietly as possible, listening for other people in the stairwell—other people looking for her. 

Fourth floor, fifth floor, sixth floor. She reached the door to the roof, and unlocked it.  Stepping through, she made sure to close the door tight.  She didn’t want anyone following her out.  Looking around, she made her decision.  Left.  She’d go left.  She secured her go-bag on her back, closing the chest waist clasps.  She jogged over to the edge of the building and looked down.  Seventy feet straight down to the alley.  She looked across the gap.  Four feet to safety.  She could do that.  She hoped she could do that. 

Jogging back to the other side of the roof, she turned and ran.  Her right foot pushed off the edge of the roof.   She sailed through the air, landing on the adjacent roof.   She stumbled forward, but remained on her feet.

She’d done it!  She was out of immediate danger, but she wasn’t safe.  Not yet.  Now she needed to do the jump three more times to get to the right building.  She checked out the route, ran, and leapt, checked, ran and leapt, checked, ran and leapt. 

She’d done it.  She was now four buildings away from the people looking for her.  She’d eluded her pursuers—for now.  She checked the door to the roof.  It was locked, as she’d suspected it would be.  She walked over to the far side of the building and looked over the side.  And there it was—the fire escape.  All she had to do was drop down to the fire escape and she’d be able to make it to street level.  She turned and hung down, holding for just a moment before letting go.  The drop was about four feet.  Her landing was less graceful than any of the roof-to-roof landings.  A pain shot up her left leg.  

Damn it all to hell!

She’d twisted her ankle.  Not so much that it was debilitating, but enough to ensure that she wouldn’t be able to run full-out if it came to that.  She wiggled her ankle then started down the metal stairs on the outside of the building.  At the the second floor she had to hop on the ladder, and hope that her weight would allow it to glide down to the ground.  She hoped on—nothing.

“Come on!” she whispered. 

She jumped up an down.

Screech!

It moved, only about a foot, but she was now a foot closer to the alley and escape.

“Everything all right out there?”

Faith jolted and looked up.  There was an older man, head sticking out of a window of the apartment she had just run by on the second floor.

“Uh, the fire escape isn’t working,” she said lamely.

“And why would you need the fire escape, if I may ask?”

She took a breath, calming her nerves.  “I’m trying to escape.”

“Trying to escape, you say.”  He scratched his beard.  “Is there a fire?  I didn’t hear the fire alarms.”

Faith shook her head.  “No, there’s no fire.  I’m just trying to escape.”

“I don’t remember seeing you in the building before,” said the man squinting at her.

In for a pound, in for a penny.  “I don’t live here,” she said.  “I live at 472.  Or I used to live at 472.  I’m being chased by some bad people who want to hurt me.”  She jumped on the stairs again.  Down another foot.

“Why would they want to hurt you?” asked the man.  “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

She jumped again, and the stairs slid another foot down.  

Only about six feet until the ground.  She could climb down and hang and drop.  The fall was doable, even with her injured ankle.  She started climbing down the ladder.

“I’ve called the police, young lady,” said the man.  “They should be here any minute.”

Are you kidding me?

“Fantastic!” she said aloud.

She hung and dropped about two feet.  She landed on her right leg, trying to protect her injured ankle.  

“Ouch!”  She wasn’t completely successful, but she hadn’t injured it any further.  She limped out of the alley, making sure to look up and down the street before joining the crowd of pedestrians walking past.  

She walked until she found a restaurant, slipped in and headed towards the washroom.

“Hey!  The facilities are for customers only.”

Faith turned to see a man in a white cap and apron.  Probably the cook.  “I’ll order something when I come out,” she said, moving towards the washrooms.

“Not so fast, girlie.  Order and pay, then you can use the facilities.”

She sighed, turned and limped towards the counter.  

Could this day get any worse?  The answer was yes it could.  Much worse.

“Fine.  I’ll have a coffee and a grilled cheese,” she said.

“Fries?” the man asked.

Faith wanted to scream at him.  Instead she steadied herself and said, “No, thank you.  Just the sandwich and coffee.”

The man walked over to the cash register and rang up the order.  “Nine twenty-three.”

Faith pulled out a ten dollar bill, and dropped it on the counter.  The man looked at her.  She sighed, and pulled out an additional two dollars and placed them on the counter.  She turned back towards the back of the restaurant.  

Once inside the washroom she opened her go-bag and pulled out a hat, jacket, sunglasses and put them on.  She checked the address that she was headed to, and left the washroom.  Instead of turning right to go to the front of the diner, she turned left and exited through the delivery door.

“Hey!  Where you goin’?  Your foods re—”  The slamming of the heavy door cut off the end of the cook’s statement.

Faith limped along the alley for six blocks.  When she was sure that she wasn’t being followed, she stepped out on to the main street, and descended down into the bowels of the earth, and the subway.  Fifteen stops later she was at her destination.

She walked up to the building, trying not to rush.  It was hard.  She was so close to being safe.  The building was nondescript—a windowless brick facade, entry at sidewalk level in a small vestibule.  It looked like a commercial building, or somewhere capable of small manufacturing.  She keyed in the code that she had memorized so long ago, and held her breath.  There was a faint clicking, and the light turned green.  She quickly looked up and down the street, and slid into the building.  She hobbled up the hall past a four doors, each with their own suite number to the very back, where she keyed in another code.  Again, a green light and clicking disengaging the locks.  She pushed through, and quickly shut the door.  She rested her back against the door and shut her eyes.

“Im glad you finally made it.  I was getting worried.”

Faith’s eyes flew open and she looked into the room.  There, seated on the sofa in the gloom of the room, was her boss Rodney.

“God, Rod, you scared the crap out of me.”

“You should alway check out the rooms before you let your guard down.  I could have been one of the bad guys.”

Faith smiled tentatively.  “But, you’re not one of the bad guys, right?”

Rodney smiled, and said nothing.