Miss No One by Mark Ayre (interesting books to read TXT) 📕

had descended from space and used something that looked and worked a bit like a hoover to suck all the sound from the world.

Or maybe her eardrums had popped and perforated. Given the notable lack of pain, she doubted it was the latter. Aliens also seemed unlikely but hey, who could rule out such occurrences these days?

Abbie's hands started to throb. Her knees were hurting as well, but her hands had taken greater punishment during her fall.

Those aliens, high above the Earth, having had their fun, hit the reverse switch on their sound hoover. It returned in a rush—the wind through the trees, the birds in the sky, Abbie's own laboured breathing.

And there was shouting from up near the school—though Abbie couldn't yet hear anyone sprinting across the field—and the sound of cars and conversation from somewhere else nearby.

Abbie was still on her front. A shake of the head started to return sense to her mind. It seemed the sprint followed by the fall had worked together to daze Abbie, to remove that urgent sense of self-preservation. She couldn't afford to lie here unmoving with armed police so close at hand.

Rolling onto her back, Abbie assessed her palms. They were cut and dirty. Blood stained her fingers and ran down her wrists.

Moving back to her front, Abbie rose to her knees, though it hurt to do so on this surface. After wiping her hands on her jeans to remove both blood and dirt, she rose to her feet. One of her guns had fallen into the bushes at her side. Without her jacket, Abbie had no place to adequately hide either weapon, but neither could she leave them here, so close to the school. It wouldn't take the police long to find them, and both weapons were covered in her prints. Abbie didn't want to leave the cops with any more evidence than they already had.

Scooping the second gun from the bush, she placed both in her waistband and covered them with her top. They were awkward but invisible unless you were staring at her midriff. In Abbie's experience, most people ignored her as she walked by. Those who stared focused mainly on her behind or her chest. The guns were too low for people in the latter group, on the wrong side for those who fell into the former.

Abbie chanced a look through the trees, back towards the school. There were the armed police. Some leaning by Gary and Kilman, both of whom had played both enemy and ally to Abbie today. She couldn't tell if either was alive or dead.

More men or women, black-clad in heavy armour, carrying sleek but deadly-effective weaponry, were moving around the back of the L-Block. Someone looked across the field.

Soon they would come.

Abbie left the gap in the trees. The path ahead was narrow, cloaked by leaves and branches, but not long. Abbie was a fifteen-second walk from daylight and concrete.

There was still no time to waste. Abbie made her way to where nature clashed with the ugly creation of humanity. Across the road was a corner shop and, beyond that, a run of houses. To Abbie's right was a playground and, further in that direction, a junction where one could turn onto the road Gary, Abbie, and later Kilman and the armed response teams had all used to reach the school.

The armed response units had swarmed the school's main entrance. This back path was either missed or ignored.

Whatever the case, Abbie's pursuers had made a mistake.

Abbie stepped from between the trees onto the pavement beside the playground.

The weak March sun did little to warm Abbie but did highlight the shining cop car, crawling at a sloth's pace in Abbie's direction.

They were on the opposite side of the road. Through the windscreen, Abbie spied peeled eyes, scanning the pavement, searching for someone.

Her?

Maybe. Possibly. Almost certainly.

One of the cops looked her way. Had they seen her?

Abbie didn't wait to find out. Turning left, she strolled casually from the playground towards the T-Junction ahead.

Not far behind, the crawling police car slowed even further. It pulled onto the curb and then right onto the pavement and then stopped. Someone shouted—Can't you cops drive? or something similar. Then car doors opened, the officers stepped out.

Abbie reached the T-Junction and paused. She had ideas about where she wanted to go next, but going there immediately wasn't an option. At least not on foot. First, she needed to escape police attention. Find somewhere to hide. Any minute now, the armed units would realise Abbie had left the school grounds. Teams from every nearby station would mobilise. The manhunt would begin.

Well, womanhunt.

And if Kilman died...

The police stuck together, protected each other. If you hurt one, you hurt them all. This was a community already rocked by a police officer's murder. Presented with a second dead detective, and this time with the killer supposedly known, how far would they go to catch Abbie? What corners might they cut, what laws might they bend, if not break, to achieve their justice?

If they caught Abbie in a dark alley, would they bring her in or kill her in self-defence... whether she dropped her gun and raised her hands or not?

Maybe Smoker and Orion never planned to kill Abbie. Perhaps this appealed to their twisted natures more than did simple, speedy murder.

Abbie felt outwitted, and there were few feelings worse than that.

She had to get away. Regroup. Plan again.

The uniformed officers who had abandoned their car on the pavement crossed the road towards the playground. Abbie had to decide what she was going to do, and now.

More cars had been rolling past as she made her way to the T-Junction. As she prepared to take a left turn, she saw another slow-moving vehicle. At the junction, it stopped. Abbie glanced towards the front windscreen, but the weak sun's reflection prevented her from seeing who might be inside.

The uniformed officers sped up a little. They hadn't called Abbie yet, which indicated they weren't sure she was