Nowhere To Hide

"Carry the damn shoes," Nicky grumbled. Barefoot, I made better time but, in the dense vegetation, it was still slow going.

It started as a low distant hum and then it sounded as if a small tornado was approaching. The tops of the trees started swaying violently and it seemed as if the whole forest was vibrating. Nicky looked upward, grabbed me, and drug me underneath a nearby pine tree with lots of cover.

"Quick, get down and cover yourself," Nicky said.

As I sat down against the tree trunk, Nicky began frantically shoveling handfuls of leaves and dead pine needles on the two of us as fast as she could.

"What are you doing? What's happening?" I asked.

"Hover-car."

"The hover-car was the police's newest toy and they loved to use it. Made of lightweight polymers and fitted with retractable wings and four small rotating aircraft engines, it could operate both a small car and as an aircraft. Since it could fly overtop the traffic jams, hover, take off vertically, or land on a dime, it was ideal for a rush hour chase. Camouflaged as best we could with the pine needles, we laid low behind the tree trunk as the hover-car passed nearby.

"I didn't think the police got into chasing down renegades," I said.

"They don't. But the cops sure as hell will be trying to find the couple of assholes on a motorbike that have been driving recklessly all over the place, caused a few accidents, chased people off the sidewalks, and hit some guy in the park. We need to get out of here fast before they've got a dozen officers combing these woods, more drones, and maybe even another hover-car."

The hover-car stopped and hovered over where we'd abandoned our motorcycle.

"Crap, they've found the bike," Nicky said. "We need to hurry. Now they know we're on foot."

We picked up the pace and head to the nearest street. As we came to the edge of the park, Nicky hid behind a large tree as she looked around for a moment to get her bearings, pulled out a cheap cell phone that I'd never seen her with before, and hit a number on speed dial.

"We're in the park just south of the intersection of Fourth and Roosevelt," Nicky said into the phone. I couldn't hear the response but Nicky appeared pleased. "Thanks, I don't know how I'll every repay you but I promise," Nicky's voice changed from her usual self, to her most seductive tone, "If you get us out of this, I'll come over to your place on Thursday, I'll take off all my clothes, and I promise that I won't dressed again until Tuesday. If you keep me from being Ultra's slave, I'll be your slave all weekend long."

Nicky playfully giggled upon hearing the response, said goodbye, put her phone back into the pocket of her blue jeans, and then, suddenly serious again, stared at me in disbelief.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Nicky shook her head, "I just can't believe that you wore a skirt suit and heels to a jail break."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what you meant by dress for action."

As Nicky looked down the road for Kurt, she looked startled.

"Slavers!"

Glancing back at the road, I could see the gray van approaching with Mr. Davis and Mr. Rodriguez in it. Mr. Davis was driving slowly while Mr. Rodriguez was hanging his head out of the open passenger window scanning the tree line. Instantly, we both dropped to the ground and scrambled behind a thick stand of underbrush. As I started to stick my head up to check on the Van, Nicky grabbed me and jerked me back down.

"Don't look," Nicky whispered, "If you can see them, they can see you. Just stay down."