Banged up pretty good

At the last second, you jump behind one of those light poles made of reinforced concrete.

The SUV crumples into it, creating a sandwich with the pole in the middle and two halves of the SUV's oversized hood on either side. It's going fast enough that one of those halves smacks into you, knocking you over.

"Hey, dude. You all right?" A homeless guy shambles toward where you're laying.

"Get out of here," you shout to him. Rather than wait to see what happens next, you pick yourself off the ground.

Somehow you got the wind knocked out of you and there's nothing you feel like doing less than running but you're willing to bet that the assholes in the SUV aren't going to dust you off and send you on your way. You can only hope that they don't want to start shooting in a crowded street. And, come to think of it, there is one thing you feel like doing less than running after all... it's getting caught by these guys.

Your run is more of a shamble than an actual sprint, but it's all you can manage. You don't think you broke anything... maybe a rib but at least your legs are running.

You cut through a Thai restaurant which, fortunately, has a back exit, dodge a couple of delivery trucks, and then duck behind the counter at a nail salon.

A couple of guys run past... with AK-47s out and their walky-talkies squawking.

"No appointment, no service," an attractive Asian woman instructs you.

"Sorry."

"Those guys hunting you?"

"Uh, yeah."

"They cops?"

"I doubt it."

"Yeah, me too. Okay, follow me."

She leads you to a tiny apartment upstairs from the nail shop. "You wait here for one hour then leave. If my husband comes home and finds you here, he'll make you wish those guys had caught you."

Shit. "Uh, are you sure I'm good for an hour."

"Yeah. And wash up. You look like you were in a car wreck. Make my business look bad."

"Will do."

She leaves and you head into the tiny bathroom.

Sure enough, you're a mess. Your pants are torn, your knees, elbows, and nose all bleeding, and your formerly white shirt is now gray and greasy with a painterly splatter of green antifreeze.

You find some duct tape and seal up the worst of the holes in your pants, wash yourself down as well as you can without getting naked (no way you're getting naked after the woman's threats about her husband), and head out.