by Michele Hauf
“Fight with the boyfriend?” the cabbie asked in a Texan accent.
“What?” She was so flustered, she sat sprawled across the backseat, arms groping for hold and one leg still poised for another kick against the door. “Boyfriend? No, he dumped me after the— No! I’ve never seen the guy before.”
“They’re all a bunch of crazies. Where to?”
“Just drive!”
She shuffled upright on the seat and looked out the rear window. The punk’s arms pumped vigorously.
“He’s running after us!” He couldn’t possibly catch a car on foot, could he? “Take the next left turn. Don’t slow down or let him catch up.”
“Yes, ma’am. A car chase. Haven’t done one of those in a while.”
“Yeah? There’s a big tip in it for you if you lose the guy.”
“He’s on foot.” The cabbie gunned the engine. “No problem.”
Shaking the rain from her hair and tugging up her sleeve, Eden stroked her forearm. It was pink.
“He licked me,” she said in horror.
“What did you say?”
“That man, he licked me. Why do you think he’d do that? Oh my God, I wonder if he has AIDS? No, I couldn’t get it that way. What are you doing? I said don’t stop!”
“Sorry, ma’am, red light.”
Eden twisted up onto her knees and scanned the sidewalk. No sight of the punk. He was thin and she hadn’t nailed him for being overly strong. That she’d been able to kick him away impressed her inner kick-ass chick. He must have given up. Though it was likely a man on foot could catch a cab in this rush-hour traffic—
Thunk.
The man landed on the trunk of the car on all fours, as if an animal had dropped from above.
“Holy crap,” the cabbie said, and rolled through the green light. “That is a mite dangerous.”
“Shake him off,” Eden warbled nervously. She slid her hand along her thigh, feeling for the small blade she kept strapped there. “He’s climbing onto the top of the cab.”
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” the cabbie protested.
A sudden right turn resulted in a clatter across the top of the vehicle. Eden saw the punk land on the asphalt—on two feet. Not like he’d been whipped off the car and couldn’t catch his bearings. He was agile and determined. One glowing blue eye remained focused on the cab.
“Unbelievable,” the cabbie said. “There’s a short tunnel ahead. We’ll lose him in there.”
“Go for it!”
The punk stood in the middle of the road, right on the yellow no-pass center line. Arms curved out in a fierce stance, he stomped one booted foot and snarled.
Eden couldn’t comprehend this.
He must be on drugs to have survived being thrown from the top of the car, and then to stand as if nothing had happened. Now he ran after the cab like some indestructible robot from a sci-fi movie.
“Drive faster!”
The cab interior went dark. The red lights lining the inner walls of the tunnel flashed intermittently. The cab slowed.
“What are you doing? Traffic is going faster than this. Keep up!”
“It’s…an…angel…” the cabbie said in a wondrous tone.
“What?” Eden leaned over the front seat, dodging her head down to see around the rearview mirror. “I’m the only nut who ever thinks she sees an— I don’t see anything. You have a clear lane. Keep driving!”
She snapped her fingers next to the cabbie’s ear. He shook his head as if snapping out of a trance.
Daylight burst into the cab as the car cruised out of the tunnel. Ahead, a four-way stop did not slow the cab. Eden gripped the driver’s-seat headrest and twisted her body to scan out the side and rear windows. No sign of the punk.
Then the cab turned left—into oncoming traffic—and Eden’s body was thrown from the back of the cab into the front. Her head plunged toward the passenger side floor. Impact thudded her shoulder. Metallic blood trickled across her tongue.
The vehicle’s tires left the tarmac. The cab flipped and landed upside-down, spinning twice before slamming into a street signal pole. Glass shattered. Iron bent.
Eden blacked out.
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ISBN: 978-1-4268-5723-2
Halo Hunter
Copyright © 2010 by Michele Hauf
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