Dead Run

by Sean Rodman

  “Well, you shouldn’t have freaked out,” I say lamely. All my anger melts into a nervous buzz. Awkwardly, I walk my bike into the garage. Robin follows beside me.

  “So what’s the deal?” I ask. “Are you jealous that Viktor gave me the dead run instead of you?”

  “No, it’s not that.” She shakes her head. “It’s really not that. I don’t care about Viktor. Not the way you do.”

  “I just think he can take me places, you know? Make me into something.” Robin stops and looks at me.

  “Sam, you don’t have to be made into anything. You’ve got everything you need. And I’m worried about what’s going to…” She cuts off, looking up. I follow her gaze and see Viktor staring at us from the top of the stairs to the office.

  “Get up here, Sam. You have work to do,” says Viktor.

  I leave Robin, prop my bike against the wall and follow Viktor. All of a sudden, I feel like a soldier. Not in a good way. Like I belong to someone else. When we get to his office, Viktor shuts the door.

  “She giving you trouble?” he asks.

  “No, no problem,” I mutter. He eyes me for a second, then walks over to sit heavily in a wooden chair behind the desk.

  “That girl—too many questions. Too many opinions. Maybe I should fire her.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” I say quickly. “She does her job.”

  Viktor grunts. “Sometimes she does. All right, pay attention. Tonight, you pick up from Diamond Club on 47th and Main. Seven o’clock. A guy will meet you at the door with the package.” He stops and rubs his eyes with one hand, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

  “You all right?” I ask.

  He looks sharply over at me and shrugs. “Headache.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a bottle of pills. “The dead-run clients, they ask for more and more.”

  “Can’t you refuse?”

  Viktor snorts. “You don’t say no to these guys. Now back to work.” He swallows a pill and turns away from me toward the big window, staring out at the yard outside. Seeing him, I realize he’s kind of like those warehouses in the distance. Worn down. Beaten up by time.

  When I emerge back into the garage, I’m surprised to see that Robin is still there, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, hugging herself through her thin T-shirt.

  “I forgot to tell you something,” she calls out. I clank down the stairs, jumping the last few to land in front of her. Anxious to try and patch things up.

  “Listen, I know what you’re thinking,” I say quietly. “But I can’t stop now. If I want to keep training, keep working here—then I don’t have a choice.”

  Robin suddenly leans in and kisses me. Her lips are soft. Her body is warm and pressed hard against mine. For a long minute, nothing else matters.

  Then she pulls away and gently leans her head on my shoulder.

  “Sam, you always have a choice. Always.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I want to stay like that with her, locked in that moment. But then Hub yells down to us.

  “Yo, Robin! You got a drop in the District. Move it or lose it!” Self-conscious, Robin pulls away. She fumbles in her bag, checking her gear, not looking at me.

  “Tonight?” I say. “Can we talk tonight after work? At the alleycat?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I’d like that.” She pulls her bike around, gets on and is ready to go. She looks at me. “Just don’t do anything stupid, okay? Be safe.”

  By the end of the afternoon, I’ve burned through a million possibilities for Robin and me. A million what-ifs. I still make my deliveries without screwing up. But my mind is totally on her. Not on the job. The hours seem to drag on forever. The day finally grinds to an end. I grab a hot dog from a stand on the street and check the time. Almost seven o’clock. Time to start the dead run.

  I don’t know what goes down in the Diamond Club. Maybe it’s gambling, maybe worse. Whatever it is, they don’t want to draw attention to themselves and their customers. The place is almost impossible for me to find—no sign on the street. In fact, it’s just a door with a buzzer. And a big guy in a UFC shirt standing beside it. I push my bike up to him.

  “Viktor sent me.”

  The bouncer is all muscle under his shirt, a pale scar across his cheek. He nods, then opens the door and pushes me into a dark, hot hallway. There’s the stench of old cigarettes and spilled beer. Far away, I can hear the dull thump of a bass. I start to walk down the hallway, but the bouncer stops me with a grunt.

  “Nyet. You don’t go all the way in. Just take this.” He shoves something into my arms. “Now get out.” I fumble the canvas package into my messenger bag.

  I’m relieved to be back on the street, free again in the cool night air. As I ride away from the club, it hits me hard. Robin was totally right. I’ve got to get out of this deal before things get worse. Tell Viktor I’m done. Maybe he wants to work with these clients. But I don’t.

  I’m into midtown and headed for the Five Continents Imports building when I see the big clock on the City Bank billboard. 7:45 PM. How did that happen? I’m way behind. There’s no way that I can make the drop and still get to the start of the alleycat. Crap. I think about my options for a couple of minutes, weaving down street. Then I pull a U-turn.

  Viktor and the clients can wait this time. I’ll run the alleycat with Robin. Then make the drop. Nobody will ever know the difference. It’s a dead run—no one is there to check when it arrives. And if Viktor does find out, so what? Maybe Robin’s right. Maybe I need to make a choice, do things for myself.

  I run a red light, putting some speed on.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The meet-up point for the alleycat is actually at the top of an eight-story parking garage. I crank slowly up the last ramp, emerging on the rooftop level. The first thing that hits me is the view of the city at night, spread out like little Christmas lights in all directions. But it’s hard to pay attention to that because of the party. There must be fifty or sixty couriers up here. Hip-hop pounds from a car stereo. A couple of guys are pulling stunts on BMX bikes and fixies. I walk through the crowd, pausing to ask someone I know if they’ve seen Robin. No luck.

  Then a guy hops up on the hood of his car and starts calling out instructions. We get a map with five checkpoints. At each checkpoint, we’ll get a special card. First one to bring all the cards back here wins. While he’s talking, I finally spot Robin. She’s on the other side of the roof. I try to make my way over to her, but the crowd is too thick.

  Everybody starts bunching up behind a chalk line drawn on the concrete. I get on my bike and try to move up. There’s a lot of laughing, a lot of shoving. I think nobody is taking this seriously. Until the air horn sounds. Then I realize that this is going to be intense. Crazy intense.

  The pack slams down the ramps of the parking garage. Four levels to go. Riders are screaming at each other, guys spilling to the ground. Two levels to go, picking up speed. Then one. We burst out onto the street. The pack stays pretty much together, weaving in and around cars and buses. It’s high-speed mayhem as we hit the first intersection and the pack streams through a red light. We all make it to the other side, no problem.

  Now I’m positioned in the middle of the pack, holding my own but trying not to kill it too early on. I catch a glimpse of Robin again. She’s up near the front. That’s where I want to be. We head into a construction zone. Flashing orange warning lights and wooden barriers mark the edges of a series of holes and trenches. The street is a mess, and everybody starts slowing down, forced to dodge around the obstacles.

  I flash back to the warehouse, to those stupid drills Viktor made me do again and again. Instead of slowing down, I start accelerating, shifting my weight back and forth as I slide in between the barriers. Don’t touch the brakes, I keep telling myself, just use your balance. Left, right. Left—my tires spin on some loose gravel, and suddenly I’m headed for a muddy ditch. I lean hard, and I’m back on track in a milli-second. Right, left. I stay focused. Keep
my speed up. By the end of the street, I’ve passed a bunch of other riders. And I’m closing in on Robin. I yell out her name, but it gets lost in the rush of wind and street noise. She’s headed into another intersection. Another red light. Robin doesn’t stop.

  That’s when a yellow cab comes screaming through the intersection, horn wailing.

  My stomach clenches. Robin is headed right into the path of the taxi. I don’t think there’s any way she can avoid getting hit. At the last second, the taxi slams on the brakes, skids to one side and misses her by inches. The driver screams at Robin, but she doesn’t look back. I wonder if she even knows how lucky she was.

  Now it’s my turn through the intersection. And I’m not so lucky. The problem is that I’m so distracted by watching Robin’s near miss that I don’t see the old woman with the stroller step off the sidewalk. Right in front of me.

  No time to shout at her. No chance to hit the brakes. Just the sickening sensation of my bike crunching into the stroller. The street rushing up at me. Then I’m out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I must have been unconscious only for a minute, max. When I come around, I’m confused and groggy. Nothing is making sense. I’m lying on my side in the middle of the intersection. There are beer cans everywhere, spilling out of the broken stroller. The old woman is kneeling next to me, yelling swear words at me through a mouth full of broken teeth. There’s a bunch of horns honking. There’s a siren too, far away but getting closer.

  What the hell is going on?

  I peel myself off the pavement. Nothing feels broken, but I’ve got major road rash down one leg. My helmet is still in one piece. And I’ve got a huge headache. Which isn’t helped by the old lady screaming at me.

  “The stroller—is your baby all right?” I croak.

  She looks shocked.

  “Baby? There’s no baby, idiot. Twenty bucks in beer cans, that’s what you just dumped on the street!” she yells. “Now I’ve got to pick them all up!”

  I stare at her for a second and then laugh with relief. Which pisses her off even more. Screw it—I feel bad, but at least nobody’s hurt. Except me.

  She’s still complaining while I pick up my bike. I realize I need to get out of the intersection fast. Even at this hour of the night, we’ve caused a traffic jam, and cars are backed up in all four directions. I’m checking my bike to see if it’s rideable when, out of the corner of my eye, I see flashing red and blue lights. My headache gets worse. A motorcycle cop has worked his way through the stopped cars. He parks the bike and walks toward me. When the old lady realizes the cop is here, she jumps in front of him and starts babbling away. That buys me a few seconds to pull myself together.

  This is going from bad to worse. I’ll get a ticket or something. I can handle that—I’ve been busted for traffic violations before now. Occupational hazard. I know the cop is going to want to see my ID, so I reach for my messenger bag. But it isn’t strapped to my side anymore. I scan around and spot the bag lying on the street, in between me and the cop. I start to walk over to it, but then I freeze.

  The dead-run package. It’s fallen out of the messenger bag. And it’s torn open down one side. Not all the way, but enough to show something green sticking out it.

  Cash. Bills. Stacks of them. I glance over to the cop, praying he hasn’t seen the ripped package yet.

  But when I see the look in his eyes, I know he already has.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I’m running on reflex, panic, adrenaline. The old lady is still in the cop’s face, blocking him as he tries to lunge toward me. So I’m able to grab the package and messenger bag. Then I’m on the bike, praying that it will still ride.

  I dodge around the cars in the traffic jam, headed the wrong way up a one-way street. The cop is yelling for me to stop. Not a chance. How the hell can I explain the package? If I just hand it over, I’ll get dragged into whatever scheme Viktor has going, probably get booked as an accomplice. But if I run, maybe I can ditch the package. Maybe the cop didn’t get a good look at me. Maybe I can get away clean.

  Pretty quickly, I figure out that this isn’t going to be easy. I stick to alleys, taking shortcuts through underground parking garages, staying out of sight. Hiding in the shadows every time I see a police cruiser. Which happens more than I would like. After an hour of this, I’m totally freaked out. Totally exhausted. And I don’t know where I’m going, I’m just running. Finally, I find a locked-up loading dock and hide behind a garbage container. Curling into a ball to try and stay warm, I pull out my cell phone. There’s only one person I want to talk to.

  “Hello?” Robin answers, happy. From the music in the background, she must be celebrating after the alleycat race at a club or something.

  “Robin, I’m in trouble.”

  Her mood changes quickly when I explain about the dead run. About the money. About the cops.

  “I can’t make the drop now. The cops will totally catch me, stick me in jail,” I say. My teeth are chattering. “I think I should ditch the package. Stuff it in a Dumpster. End it, right here.”

  “You think the clients are going to be okay with that? No way. They’ll just come after you.” There’s silence for a moment while she thinks. “You need to get the package back. To Viktor. This is his problem to fix.”

  Maybe she’s right. But that means getting out there again, dodging cops. I watch the rain start to come down, making ripples in the puddles. Far off, I hear a siren and wonder if they are looking for me.

  “Robin, I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Shut up, Sam. You know you can. I know you can.” I hear what she’s trying to do, but it sounds flat and false. Still, maybe it helps.

  “Look, I’ll meet you at Champion, okay?” she says. “Just focus. Twenty minutes. I’ll be there. We’ll deal with Viktor together.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It’s tight for me to make it to Champion Couriers that fast and stay off the major roads. But I pull it off. As I glide into the yard, I can see that there’s a light on in Viktor’s office. I’m glad the guy practically lives here. I drop my bike next to Robin’s in the garage and limp up the stairs. As I walk down the hallway to his office, I start to get that creeped-out feeling again, like at the Five Continents Imports building. It takes me a second to figure out what’s wrong. Viktor and Robin should be talking. Maybe even arguing.

  But there’s only silence.

  I freeze. The door is open a crack, and light is spilling out. I start moving forward and push it gently with my foot. Viktor is on the floor, arms covering his head. His office is trashed. Books and papers are scattered everywhere. Drawers from his desk have been dumped on the floor. In the middle of the mess, I notice the picture of him winning the gold medal on the floor, glass cracked. Viktor moans softly. I kneel beside him.

  “Viktor, what happened?”

  “The clients…they came for their package. Thought I’d stolen it,” he mumbles around his swollen lips. I can barely understand him—maybe it’s a concussion or something. He sits up carefully, and I help him to a chair. Man, he took a pounding. There are bruises all over his face and a big cut across one eyebrow.

  “I’m going to call an ambulance,” I say, reaching for my phone.

  “No!” barks Viktor. “I don’t want any questions. They will bring cops. I don’t want any cops.”

  I hesitate. He leans back in the chair, eyes closed, and starts muttering again.

  “We gave them a fight. But we lost. We fought them like tigers.”

  Wait—

  “We?” I ask.

  “Robin. She came out of nowhere. Walked in on us. She didn’t hesitate, saw them attacking me and jumped in. She is a fighter, Sam. I shouldn’t have treated her so badly.”

  “So where is she?”

  Viktor keeps his eyes closed, doesn’t move a muscle for a minute. When he speaks, it’s clearer than before. Like he’s coming out of his daze.

  “He took Robin, Sam. As insurance, h
e said. I have to get the package to them by midnight.”

  “But you don’t have the package,” I say.

  “Of course not. They are screwing with me. Said there’s fifty grand in the package. I think one of those gangsters stole it for himself, now they want me to pay for his greed…”

  I cut him off. “I know you don’t have the package—because I’ve got it.”

  I pull it out of my bag to show him. His eyes widen. “You…why didn’t you make the delivery?” he says. “You stole it?”

  I can’t find a way to explain that doesn’t sound like a pathetic excuse. “No, I didn’t steal it. It was stupid. I didn’t think any of this would happen.”

  Viktor doesn’t answer me, just stares. Maybe he’s going into shock. Oh, crap. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I’m responsible for all of this. For Viktor getting beaten up. For Robin walking in on the fight. For her being taken away.

  I start to panic.

  “This has gone way out of control, Viktor,” I say. “They hurt you, they might hurt Robin…we need help! I don’t want to, but we’ve got to call the cops.”

  “And then what?” He shakes his head slowly. “What if the police take everything?” He leans over to pick a framed photo up from the floor.

  I kneel down in front of him. “You could cut a deal with the cops. Or tell them that you didn’t know what was in the packages.”

  “I knew,” Viktor says, shaking his head. “I never asked. But I knew. I wanted their money so badly that I just looked the other way. Champion Couriers was going to close. Then Niko showed up, told me I could make money working with him.”

  “Niko is the client? Your son? I thought you said he was a businessman.”

  “He is. Like a banker, moving money around for gangs. I’d looked the other way for years, pretended I didn’t know what he did. When he came to me…I just wanted to hang on to the two things I had left. My son, and my business.” He grunts and clutches his side, then relaxes. He is still cradling the broken picture in his lap, the one of him on the podium at the Olympics.