Roof jumping 101. (Please don’t try this at home).

Have you ever tried roof jumping?

Because if you have that nagging sensation deep down in your heart to do it, my recommendation is just don’t. Don’t go jumping off any rooftops, don’t try to take parkour classes in the Empire State building, or try to become Spider-Man by jumping into the air and trying to get webs out of your wrists. Believe me, it doesn’t work like that.

You need what it’s called experience, something I did have, and at the same time, I didn’t want to have. My name is Chris Sawyer, and right now, I’m escaping from someone by jumping across all the rooftops in Manhattan. It was not cool, considering the fact that my opponent had a gun, and I didn’t.

The bullet went flying right across my ear; I could hear its buzz as it passed. It ended up hitting some solar panels that were on the roof. My body twitched as I tried to dodge more of the bullets that were coming past me, hitting the tubes and vases that were on the floor. I continued running at my top speed.

“You can’t run forever, Mark,” said my pursuer, his voice getting closer each time. “Just surrender yourself. You can’t run.”

Okay, here I need to clarify something. My name isn’t Mark, as you may have already noticed. End of the side note. Let’s continue.

I jumped to the other roof that was just like the last one, a concrete plain floor with millions of cracks and a gray atmosphere of dirt that made it almost impossible to breathe. I rolled across the concrete to soften the fall. I looked back.

Boom!

Nothing flew back to me, not even a bullet, just mere air hit me.

“Fuck!” said the guy who was following, his appearance blurred to my eyes thanks to the sun.

It was too late when I realized how close he was. He jumped beside me, connecting a punch to my face. I stumbled back, and with my hands, I managed to gather myself back up. He didn’t try for any move; he stood there, keeping me cornered at the edge of the roof where the small walls of it were my only salvation of staying alive.

“What are you going to do, Mark?” he asked, the sun hitting against him, letting me see his features more clearly. His face was like that of a handsome TV actor of Hollywood, with the blonde goatee beard and that combed hard middle-part hairstyle that suited him best. The sunglasses he was wearing didn’t help him to appear less Hollywood-like. He would’ve passed for Thor if he pleased.

“How many times do I have to tell you my name is not Mark?” I kept a steady defense, my fists ready to attack at any given moment. “My name is Chris Sawyer. Chris Sawyer, you bastard! Can you now please let me go?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re going to let you go. We are so sorry that we’ve mistaken you for the great Mark Cardona, and we’re just going to let you go that simple,” he let out a laugh, my guard still up. “Do you really think we’re letting you go? After everything you’ve done?”

“I didn’t do anything. You can’t check that up on the pages you check for a criminal record and things. Search in your database and—”

The guy had his fingers on his right ear. “Yeah . . . Yeah, good. Copy that!”

“I fucking told you I didn’t do anything.”

He turned to me, smirking. “I told you, Cardona. We got you cornered finally, and you’re not getting out of this one. Not again.”

“Man, I don’t understand, just please explain it to me all.” I brushed my dark coal hair backward. “I don’t understand anything and now . . . just . . . Man!” I grabbed a rock and threw it across the roof, not getting even near to the other roof. I got to my knees, tears coming from my eyes.

“Please, please . . . I . . . don’t understand anything,” my eyes getting red, my throat a living cactus. “Just promise me you . . . you’ll make everything possible to tell all of them that my name isn’t Mark Carlos—”

“Cardona. Yeah.”

“—And you’ll . . . you’ll . . .” a hand patted my back, staying right there as a support. I felt the presence of the officer at my side. “Please, just make sure that my wife and children are okay. Please . . . please officer.”

The wind whistled across the roof, hitting a bunch of tree branches at its pace. My skin shivered, and I felt alone, abandoned, memories of when I was a child came back to me. The cafeteria at high school when everyone chose their groups to eat and talk. The basketball games were the coach wouldn’t get me off the bench, or the times my father told me to stay in my room and ‘reflect upon my actions.’

It felt like bullshit, I felt like complete bullshit. I looked up at the sky just to see the complete emptiness of clouds and planes. Planes too were considered as emptiness, right?

“Hey. Everything’ll be all right I just . . . Oh my god! I just feel like a complete asshole trying to catch you when you were just doing parkour on the roofs—I mean, that comes with a little penalty fee, but nothing too hard to pay, something your wife won’t be happy to pay, but . . .”

I tried for a laugh that came more as a cough than a laugh. “She never liked me for doing parkour, but the kids came . . . the kids came.”

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a little smirk of the officer, a smirk that made him look a hell lot more like the Chris Hemsworth guy from the movies.

“I’ll-I’ll come my mates to tell them it was a false alarm. I’m . . . I’m super sorry about this. But you’ll come with me anyway, and after that . . . a pizza night? Maybe you can tell me something more about that wife and kids you have.”

The winds hustled harder against both of us. Seeing the sky now made a feel of calmness, relief all across my body. The sun smiling at the clouds who were playing with the planes that were carrying people; the moon already showing up from behind the mountains; Oh, wait. Did I mention the silent helicopter that was hovering just above us?

I smiled, getting myself back up to my feet, the officer smiling at my side too, keeping his hand on my back. “Weather is cold, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Bet your kids are enjoying this weather. My kids . . . it’s incredible how much they enjoy staying outside till they get some kind of virus. Wait till the snow gets to town. They’ll be crazy.”

“Shame we won’t be seeing each other again, Officer McLaughlin.”

“We can arrange some things between—Wait, how do you know my name?”

A wide smile filled my entire face, “Shame I had to hit you. You were right all the time.”

“What?”

“I’m indeed Mark Cardona, and now I have a flight waiting for me.” I punched him in the face, his body crawling onto the floor as it groaned with terror. I looked at the blood on my knuckles, pure happiness. “See ya, Officer.”

I went around the officer’s body that was just naming a lot of bad insults towards my name. My mom would’ve been proud of this. I grabbed the rope that was hanging from the helicopter and looked at the beautiful face of my girlfriend in the pilot’s seat.

“Ready to go, Baby.”

The helicopter went up higher into the rushing winds, my hands holding steady to the rope that made all of my life right now. It fell, I died. I didn’t like to think it in that way; it had worked for all those years stealing heists that I doubted it just broke like that.

At my feet, a little dot was raising and shouting indistinct things. Some I did catch up. “I’m going to catch you someday. Someday I’m going to catch you, Mark Cardona.”

“I really hope you do,” I muttered to myself. “I really hope you do, my dear friend.”