Elijah looked up, just in time to see the driver lurch to the side. The truck spun out, and smashed into the car in front of it.
The force knocked Elijah down again. He heard blaring horns as the car ahead and others came to a screeching halt. But the truck knocked the one in front out of its path and veered to the side of the highway. Other car swerved out of the way, screeching and crashing into each other.
Elijah was flung about in the back until at last the truck came to a standstill as its side was smashed by the by the concrete wall.
He groaned as he rolled off his back. He shook his head. He felt dizzy, but at least the car had come to a halt. His heart was throbbing.
He looked up. Across the highway cars had come to a start. There was a group of cars near him, stalled and smashed into each other. People were getting out.
But one by one he saw them start coming to a standstill as each driver approached each other are started to assess the damage, though that could stand at least.
They looked up, and someone screamed.
Elijah looked up to now, over the side of the truck. The asset was out of his car and walking up along the shoulder, gun in hand.
People started running. The others stood still in shock.
Elijah jumped out.
“Get out of here!” he yelled. Some of the people looked up at him. “Now! Get out!”
They did. Elijah ran forward and threw one paralyzed woman to her feet. He turned around, and ran back to clearing between the cars.
He faced the asset.
He stood still for a moment. He had had a rush of adrenaline, but the crash had knocked it out of him. But he knew he had to move, and fast. And he didn’t have time to get out his gun, nor much time to think.
The asset raised the gun.
Elijah flung himself under the truck. But this time the asset didn’t miss. Elijah struck the pavement hard as the bullet burst through his calf.
He pulled his legs in under the truck, writhing and gritted his teeth. But he looked up, the asset was running towards him.
Alright you got no other choice, he told himself.
He scrambled out, opening his wings as he did so. He ran round and jumped up onto the barrier and flew up in a spiral to the sky, too fast for any of the shots to hit their mark.
The highway, the traffic, the screams of the people and issuing chaos, all disappeared below him. And his breathing slowed as the cold air his lungs. Night was coming in. He was already in the dark sky and had caught a current and was headed north.
He had to land soon though; the numbness was spreading all up his leg. And he also was getting worried that the Correlation would start searching the skies for him.
He considered landing on the Washington Monument as he passed above it, but he supposed that would be too obvious.
Instead he circled till it was almost dark, and found a quiet part of the city and landed on the highest rooftop he could find, which was not very high.
He came down with a soft swoop. But his foot slipped out from under him when he landed, and he came down with a thud and rolled out of it.
He sat up and folded in his wings. He looked around.
Crickets chirped in the trees lining the sidewalks below. It was a warm night, but he didn’t see many people out.
He scooted over and threw his backpack off and sat up against the short ledge that surrounded the roof.
He stretched out his shot leg. It was numb and throbbing. It was bleeding from two holes; the bullet had gone right through it.
He rolled up his jeans over it.
He had thought enough before he left his apartment to grab an ace bandage that had been sitting in his draw since high school. He pulled it out and washed his leg over with water, regretting for once he didn’t have alcohol with him.
He laced it up tight with the bandage and pulled his jeans back down over it. That was all he could do, for now at least. He had to just bite back the pain.
He slept on the roof, and the night hummed into darkness around, pulsing with the holes in his leg.