Run (11 page)

GAIA WAS COMING OUT OF THE
store, finishing up her Mars bar, when Ed appeared.

"I've got good news and bad news," he said.

"Is the bad news that you couldn't think of anything more original to say than that?" Gaia asked through a mouthful of nuts and chocolate. She crumpled the wrapper and shoved it into her sweatshirt pocket with the two other chocolate bars she'd bought. Gaia didn't know much about diabetes, but she thought Sam might need them.

"So where is she?" Gaia asked, glancing past Ed.

"She'll meet us here in a few minutes," Ed said, studiously avoiding eye contact. "She went inside to get the key."

Gaia's body rippled with relief. "She's going to give it up?"

"More or less," Ed answered, picking at the hole in his sweater.

"I'm not sure that's possible, Ed," Gaia said impatiently.

"She's coming with us to the dorm," Ed said, push-his shoulders back, trying to look defiant. "There's no way around it."

Gaia tilted her head back, staring up at the rapidly darkening sky. "Do you think she's gonna be able to keep her head when she sees Sam in the park, all beaten and bloody, being shoved around by some guy in commando gear who's holding a sawed-off shotgun to his head, and who knows what else?"

Ed looked a little white. "She'll be long gone before we get to the park."

Gaia had to bite her lip to keep herself from commenting on his use of the word
we.
He didn't know it yet, but
he
was going to be long gone, too. There was no way she was going to drag Ed into that little scenario. But perhaps it was best not to mention that just yet.

"What makes you so sure she'll be gone?" Gaia asked, leaning back against the brick wall of the convenience store.

Ed smiled and his eyes filled with mischief.
Gaia knew what was coming
before he said it.

"Because I have a plan."

He didn't think he could handle humiliation if his first-ever covert-action plan crashed and burned.

ED WHEELED HIS WAY INTO THE
dorm and took a look around. The lobby smelled of beer-dampened carpet and the bottle's worth of CK One with which the guard had obviously drenched himself.

Hmm. Ed would have pegged this one for a Brut by FabergÈ type. Go figure.

"Hi."

Behind his desk, the guard averted his eyes and gave him a nod.

Typical. Can't look the cripple in the eye.

Ed aimed for the elevator.

Waiting . . . waiting . . .

Okay, so gimme the ID speech already. He checked his watch. Seven twenty-eight. C'mon, buddy. Ask for the card.

Nothing.

"Ed hit the elevator button hard. The Neanderthal glanced in his direction and
dredged up an awkward grin.

Damn! Don't tell me the quasi-cop is too soft-hearted to hassle a guy in a wheelchair.

Above the elevator, the number 3 lit up. It would reach ground level any second, and Ed would be able to roll right on. No distraction, no clear avenue for Gaia and Heather.

Over his head, the number 2 blinked orange.

"Excuse me," he said. "I'm heading up to see a friend, but I'm not sure I'll be able to find his room. Those letters and numbers are kinda confusing. Can ya help me out?"

Not until you see my ID, right? Go ahead, say it!

"The letter stands for the wing," the guard explained. "A is to the right, B to the left. There are four rooms to a suite and they're all clearly marked."

"Thanks," Ed muttered. He was starting to sweat. He didn't think he could handle the humiliation if his first-ever covert-action plan crashed and burned.

For a second the guy just looked at Ed and seemed to be trying to decide what to do.

C'mon, brainless. Card me, already. Then the elevator announced itself with a loud
ding,
and the door opened.

"I've never been in any of these dorms before," Ed said. He raised his voice a few decibels louder than necessary.
I don t go here.

There! Now he's got no choice.

The Neanderthal cleared his throat. "Listen, pal," he said in a regretful tone. "I really can't let you up if you don't have an ID."

Finally! Ed narrowed his eyes as the elevator door slid closed. "What do you mean?"

"University policy. Sorry." The guard shoved his beefy hands into his pockets. Damn, he was uncomfortable. "Nonstudents can't--"

"Nonstudents?" Ed challenged, spinning his chair toward the guard. "You sure you don't mean people in
wheelchairs?

The guy looked at him, waylaid. "Huh?"

"C'mon, man. You know the real reason you're not letting me get on this elevator is because I can't walk into it on my own two feet," Ed said, his face growing red. He should get an Oscar for this one.

"No. That ain't it." Now the Neanderthal was sweating, too. "It's just --"

"Yeah, right! I've seen this crap before," Ed shouted, gripping the armrests on his chair. "It's always the chair. It's discrimination.

Now the guy was getting pissed. "It has nothin' to do with the chair. It's the rule. No ID, no admittance."

Ed gave him a disgusted look, then turned his chair again and reached for the elevator button.

"Hey!" barked the guard, hurrying out from behind the desk. "I told you --"

"What are ya gonna do?" Ed chuckled wickedly. "Hit me?"

With that, they began to argue in earnest.

"ALL RIGHT, WE'RE GOING IN," GAIA said from her position outside Sam's dorm.

Heather rolled her eyes, but when Gaia pushed through the lobby door, Heather followed. Ed had managed to lure the guard out from behind his station, so Gaia and Heather tiptoed behind the guard's back and slipped into the stairwell.

All politeness, Gaia held the door open, allowing Heather to go through first. No idiot, Heather shot Gaia a suspicious look, but Gaia could practically see her train of thought. Heather didn't want Gaia behind her, but the thought of getting to Sam's room first was tempting.

Heather sneered at Gaia and brushed past her.

"You're welcome," Gaia snapped in a whisper. Heather started to jog, and Gaia followed close behind. It was torture having Heather's
scrawny
ass in her face, but it was going to be worth the sacrifice in about five seconds. Gaia let Heather get up three half flights of stairs before she made her move.

Gaia reached up and grabbed Heather's ankle, sending the girl sprawling on the concrete landing between the first and second floors.

"Get off me!" Heather yelled.

Holding Heather down with one hand, Gaia seized the key from Heather's grasp with a
mercury-fast
action that would have done even the most seasoned New York purse snatcher proud.

Gaia pulled Heather to her feet. "Sorry, but it was necessary," Gaia muttered.

"I-I'm going to-to
kill
you," Heather shrieked, struggling to no avail.

"Me first," Gaia said, trying not to enjoy the terror in Heather's eyes. She wasn't going to kill her, of course, though it was tempting. She did, however, need to shove Heather down a few steps, both so she could get to Sam's room without further interference, and so the overweight guard could catch Heather.

Gaia gave Heather one hard push, and Heather yelped. She stumbled down the half flight and landed at the bottom with a thud. It looked like it hurt at least a little.

At that moment Gaia heard Ed yelling at the guard. Right on cue.

"Some chick just snuck into the stairs! Yeah! Yes! I swear! Brown hair! Pink shirt!"

Heather was struggling to her feet as Gaia heard the sound of the lobby door to the stairs banging open.

It was time to get out of there.

"Later, Heather!"

Gaia took off up the stairs. She heard Heather start after her, but the guard had already caught up.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, panting.

"Get
off
me!" Heather screamed. "Gaia!
Gaia!"
Gaia smiled as she sprinted down the fourth-floor hallway.

GAIA STOOD OUTSIDE THE DOOR OF
room B4 and held her breath. The last time she'd been here Sam had been making love to Heather.

How could she bring herself to go in there? "Don't be such a sentimental idiot," Gaia told herself, shaking off the self-inflicted melodrama. "This is a college dorm room. I should have a nickel for every sexual encounter that's taken place in here."

She slid the key into the lock.

"The doorknob fell off in her hand.

For a moment she just stared at it.

Son of a bitch!

"The damn thing had been broken all along! Not even lockable. So they hadn't needed the key after all. And, by association, they hadn't needed Heather. What a waste of time!

Then again, it had provided the opportunity for Gaia to give Heather a good hard shove. Truth be told, that had actually been kind of cathartic.

She opened the door. And there it was. Sam's bed.

Gaia stepped into the room, keeping her mind on her task. Insulin. Must find insulin. Don't even look at that framed photograph of Heather over there on the dresser. Could she possibly be wearing any more lip gloss?

Insulin, damn it! What was the matter with her?

Gaia seemed to remember the stuff had to be refrigerated. Her eyes swept the room and found a minifridge in the corner. She opened the door. Two bottles of mineral water, a small mountain of those plastic packets of duck sauce that come with Chinese takeout, and a small zippered nylon case.

She opened the case. Pamphlet of instructions. Vials. Syringe.

A wave of emotion washed over her. It was like holding the definition of
vulnerable
in her hands. Sam -- perfect, brilliant, gorgeous Sam -- had this to contend with. This frailty. This tiny physiological flaw, this infinitesimal defect in body chemistry. This burden. This disadvantage.

Tell me about it.

She stuffed the case into the oversized pocket of her cargo pants, then got up to leave. But there was that damn bed again.

Gaia hesitated perhaps a fraction of a millisecond. Then she threw herself onto the bed. Don't think about the fact that the last time you saw it, Heather was between the sheets. Think about Sam.

Sam's bed.

"Sam's sheets. Sam's pillow. Gaia buried her face in it,
breathing deeply.
Maybe there was something of him still clinging to the pillowcase -- an eyelash, maybe, or an echo of a dream.

"Oh, God, Sam . . . I'm so sorry."

She clutched the pillow to her body.

I don't want to kill anybody,
her brain said for the hundredth time since she'd read the last directive.
I don't want to kill. I don't want to kill.

Images flooded her mind, drowning her brain: Sam at the chessboard. Sam coming to see her in the hospital. Sam on the park bench.

And then it was CJ. CJ chasing her down Broome Street. CJ in the police lineup. CJ holding a gun to her head. And firing. And . . .

Gaia sat bolt upright.

She knew what to do.

Oh, God. Is this what forgiveness feels like?

GAIA FOUND ED WAITING AT THE
southwest corner of Fifth Avenue and Tenth Street -- the designated meeting spot. It was dark out, and he sat in a square of light pouring out of the lobby of the building behind him.

"Get it?" he asked.

"Got it." She nodded, patting the nylon case inside her pocket. "C'mon, let's go. There's somewhere I have to be."

Gaia started walking toward the park, and Ed quickly caught up with her.

"How'd it work out with Heather and the guard?" Gaia asked, hoping to keep him from asking where exactly she had to be.

A shadow of guilt
crossed his face. "It got pretty hairy. She was ballistic when they tossed her out."

"Tossed her out, huh?" asked Gaia, savoring the image. "You mean that literally, right?"

"Pretty much," Ed said. "From what I overheard, it seems our little Heather tried to get in to Sam's room earlier today. The guard recognized her and thought she was some crazed stalker, so he totally ignored her when she was shouting about you getting away. They took her to the main security office. She fought him like you wouldn't even believe, kicking, swearing, snorting. . . ."

"So she didn't get around to implicating you?" Gaia asked, glancing up at the arch at the north end of Washington Square Park. It was illuminated at night, and Gaia couldn't help thinking it was beautiful. It was kind of like a beacon.

"I'm sure she tried," Ed said, following her gaze. "But no way were they gonna believe her." He shook his head. "Man, I feel sorry for the guy who had to interrogate her."

"What time is it?" she asked. If he noticed she wasn't really paying attention to the conversation, he didn't say anything.

He checked his watch. "Only eight ten. We've got plenty of time before we have to go to the park."

"Excuse me?" Gaia said.
"We've
got plenty of time?" "What is it with you women and pronouns today, huh?" Ed asked.

Gaia shoved her hands into her pockets. Her fingers automatically closed around the candy bars. "I'm serious, Ed.
I'm going to do this alone.

Ed scoffed. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I . . ." Gaia threw up her hands. "Ed, this isn't open to debate. You said it yourself, to Heather -- it'll be dangerous."

He had no idea how dangerous, of course, because he was unaware of the last note's final directive. But she wasn't about to tell him she'd be
murdering a gang member in cold blood
this evening, which wasn't exactly the sort of thing that required an escort.

He stopped wheeling. "And you think just because I'm in this chair . . ."

"Oh, please! Save the politically correct guilt trip for somebody who gives a shit, okay?" Gaia spat out. "Yes, you're in a wheelchair. Yes, in this case it's a liability. It makes you slow, and obvious, and a real easy target.

Ed looked at her a moment, then turned away.

Damn. She hadn't meant that the way it sounded. Well, no, actually she'd meant it exactly the way it sounded. It was the truth, for God's sake. Of course, she'd neglected to mention her most important reason for not wanting him there.

"Listen," she said, not quite gently, but as close to it as she could stand to get. "I'm not saying this stuff to hurt your feelings--if I wanted to do that, I'd tell you what I really think of your taste in clothes." He didn't face her, but she could feel him smiling. "I've got to do this myself, Ed. Because . . ."

At last he turned. "Because?"

"Because if anything happened to you . . ." Gaia pulled her jacket close to her as the wind picked up, and sighed. "If anything happened to you, the world would be a much sadder place," she finished so quietly she wasn't certain the breeze had left any of her words for Ed to hear.

A few hundred years went by
before Ed finally spoke. "Thanks, Gaia."

"Yeah, whatever." Gaia picked at a hangnail. "Let's not make this a mush fest, okay? You know you're, like, my only friend on the planet. So what good would it do me to let you take a bullet to the skull?"

She handed him Heather's key, careful not to let her hand touch his.

"Get this back to her," she said.

"Don't you want to keep it?"

"Gaia shook her head. "He gave it to her, not to me."

"Yeah," Ed replied softly, lowering his eyes. "I know exactly what you mean."

She figured he was thinking back on his bygone relationship with Heather, because his tone was tender in the extreme. She sighed again.

"I gotta go," she said, looking off toward the center of the park.

He raised his eyes, surprised. "Now?"

"Yeah, well . . . I have to stop back at my place. I've gotta get something." Something she really didn't want to get. Something that should just have been left in its uninspired hiding place forever.

"What?"

Gaia hesitated, waiting for an appropriate lie to shove its way to the front of her brain. Then her mind zoomed back to the Duane Reade bag, the cop, Renny.

"Tampons."

"Oh." Ed's face flushed faster than Gaia had ever thought possible. "Well, uh . . . be careful."

She grinned. "With the tampons?"

"Gaia!"

"I'll be okay." Her brows knitted together, and she stared at Ed seriously. "I'll be okay as long as you stay far, far away from the park tonight."

Ed sighed and shook his head. "Fine."

She was three steps away when she turned around again. "Promise me, Ed. Promise me you will
not
come to the park."

He nodded. "I promise."

If she hadn't been thinking so hard about killing CJ, she might have recognized that Ed was as good a liar as she was.