CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Road Runner
For the first time in a long time, George felt he was running toward something. It made a difference. Fear was pretty good at getting him moving, but that was running fueled by the flight part of the fight-or-flight reflex. This running was taking its fuel from the fight part. Maybe that was why he was able to dredge up the reserves of strength he needed.
He stopped worrying about taints swooping down on him; not because he wasn’t scared of them, but because worrying about things he couldn’t possibly stop was an obvious waste of energy, and he had none to spare. Every ounce was going into keeping his legs and arms pistoning forward. He would just have to deal with any attacker, if it happened, as it happened. He had one shot at getting to the Gunner’s plinth, and he wasn’t going to let anything distract him from it.
He ran in a kind of fugue state. Somewhere he knew all this was hurting and that he had run through several stitches in his side, and that his breath was tearing out in great ragged gasps that would have sounded like sobs if anyone had noticed, but he didn’t care. He just ran, clutching the hammer.
And as he ran, he realized that his mind was clearing all the things he didn’t understand, and leaving only the things that mattered, only the things he could deal with. First he was going to be able to buy more time for the Gunner, if he could just make it to the plinth. Then he would find Edie, and she would tell him what the Black Friar had said, and they would find a way to get the Gunner back. There was no doubt in his mind, because there was no room for anything that would slow him down.
Unfortunately, he turned into a narrow alley and suddenly found there was no room in it for him and the low sports car that was heading straight toward him.
It honked its horn and flashed its lights, but George kept on running. Luckily, the alley was so narrow, the driver was going slowly in order to not scrape his expensive side mirrors. So when George didn’t stop, the driver had enough time to slam on the brakes without skidding or running him down. The car came to a stop, entirely blocking the alley.
George didn’t miss a step. He jumped up on the hood of the low-slung muscle car, over the roof, onto the trunk, and off into the empty alley beyond, before the driver knew what was happening.
Of course, the moment the driver realized that the boy had run over his car, he went berserk. George could hear a torrent of shouting from behind him, then a series of angry blasts on the horn, and finally the sound of someone trying to slam an expensive gearbox into reverse, managing to engage the gear at the third shrieking try, and then the boom of exhaust as the driver tried to back up and catch George.
George took the time to glance backward for an instant. He saw reversing lights approaching at speed as the driver wobbled to keep straight in the narrow alley. He had just enough time to see one side mirror explode into expensive shards against a drainpipe, and then he turned away and ran on, pausing only to pull a rubbish bin into the alley to discourage further pursuit from the driver, now leaning out of his window and screaming.
He ran out of the alley and adjusted his bearings as he crossed the road and carried on. He could see trees in a park beckoning at the end of the road.
Seeing the park reminded George of Edie, of the first time they’d met in an underground garage. She’d been sparky and aggressive and had hit him when he’d tried to be nice to her. But she’d turned out to be a brave and resourceful ally in all the adversity they’d had to face together. He wondered suddenly if she might already be there at the Gunner’s plinth. Of course, the Friar had probably told her the same thing George had been told by the Euston Mob. The thought of seeing her again put more energy in his legs, and he hit Park Lane with a renewed burst of energy. He chicaned through the late-night traffic and slipped into the park.
Running on grass, beneath the fluorescent-lit tracery of the trees, was a lot easier.
He saw a clock face on the side of a building on Park Lane, and as he ran under the tall modern tower hotel, his heart was pumping like a trip hammer, but now it was because he knew he was going to make it to the plinth before midnight.
Hang on, Edie, he thought. I’m almost there!