Emz was in a frantic foot chase, his heart pounding in his chest as his boots crunched on the gritted pavement. His palms were sweaty despite the Baltic winter air, and he tightened his grip on his favoured gun, a Glock D47, which displayed 2 on the dim ammo display above his right thumb.
Fuck my life!
It wasn't the first time he’d found himself running after something or fleeing from something, but today was the first time he was doing both simultaneously. He was chasing a scrawny, sixty-year-old running ridiculously fast and with insane stamina, almost gliding along effortlessly—while Emz felt as if his own body were made of lead, bracing himself for the moment he might slip on an icy patch. Behind him, two people were, in turn, chasing him, guns drawn. Strangely, neither situation was connected.
The pursuers were a perplexing pair of siblings—either two brothers, two sisters, or some combination; it was hard to tell. Both were highly androgynous and looked remarkably alike. One was called Morgan, the other Madison, which didn’t exactly help with determining the correct pronouns. They wanted him due to events set in motion two weeks ago, while the sixty-year-old, Gary, was carrying an item Emz needed, also tied to an event that had begun a fortnight earlier.
But at that moment, it was 8 a.m. Saturday morning, 16 December, 2051, in the Sutton neighbourhood of Poyz, and they were all running north along the left-hand pavement of Valli street. Mercifully, the street was quiet, before the festive bustle got going for the day. Only a driverless grey delivery van drifted by, its vibrant blue and orange corporate logo clearly visible. This part of north-south Valli, primarily composed of rent-controlled family housing, with exteriors of the homes adorned with garish holiday lights and decorations.
Poyz streets were based on a gridiron of long roads, and like at the last few intersection, the old scrawny man leading the chase continued heading north over the intersection with Updike, remaining on Valli before obliquely crossing to the right-hand pavement, forcing a ghosting taxi to take corrective action to avoid hitting him. Emz crossed over as well, moving diagonally through the junction. Just as he stepped into the road, a bullet whistled past his head from behind, striking a street sign with a loud ding. Instinctively, Emz ducked his head, and for a moment, he considered turning to fire back. However, a quick glance at his gun reminded him of how low he was on ammo. 2. With limited bullets left, he retightened his grip and sprinted on, bracing himself for another shot to hit him in the back at any moment.
The old man maintained his relentless pace north until he suddenly turned into a convenience store at the end of the block, at the corner of Thoreau street, and disappeared inside. Emz was about thirty seconds behind, and as he made the turn in, his heel hit a patch of ice, causing him to slam his shoulder heavily against the door frame before bouncing inside the store. Less than a second later, a bullet struck the frame with a thwack, narrowly missing him and sending a chunk of wood splintering into Emz's back.
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When the twins reached the store's door and entered, they were met with a panicked old clerk crouching low behind the counter, urgently jabbing his finger towards a door at the back, just visible between tall rows of shelving stocked with convenience goods. The twins dashed forward but were taken by surprise as a heavy row of shelving was suddenly tipped inward on to them. Numerous tins, packets, and jars came crashing down, shattering around them, before the metal shelving unit itself knocked them down and pinned them to the floor.
Morgan was just ahead of Madison and had avoided the worst of the grocery landslide, allowing Morgan to crawl forward a little from under the shelving. However, before they could get fully out, Emz swung a large tin of beans and struck Morgan on the side of their well-coiffed dark hair, delivering a stunning blow. Emz then fled through the back door, hoping to spot Gary or, at the very least, make his escape.
He pressed on through the stockroom, past a fire door, across a filthy, rubbish-strewn yard piled with netted Christmas trees, and down an alley before finally emerging onto Wonder, the next north-south street over.
Emz looked north and thankfully saw Gary running up along the new road, almost reaching the next intersection. Taking a deep motivating breath Emz followed, crossing Thoreau and headed up on Wonder after the old man, whose pace still remained astonishing.
Gary continued to run north up Wonder, crossing the next intersection with Shakespeare and then Rabelais as he entered the Midton neighbourhood. Emz struggled to maintain a distance of about a hundred metres behind. People were now visible, milling about the streets, some wearing Santa hats and festive jumpers, prompting Emz to glance over his shoulder to check if the twins were still pursuing him. Not spotting them, he kept running, his breath coming in laboured gasps as he tried to keep track of Gary while an increasing number of people drifted in and out of his line of sight.
He passed a coffee shop and nearly collided with a group of giggling young kids, oblivious to the world around them, absorbed in their frivolous banter. As he sidestepped around them, he stamped into a large dense pile of snow that had been shovelled to the side of the kerb, nearly tripping. He managed to regain his balance with an awkward, twisting stumble, earning a mix of confused scowls and a smirk from one of the teens. He briefly entertained the thought of shooting the boy with the smirk.
Emz pressed on, soon crossing the Rabelais intersection and noticing he had definitely crossed into the slightly more prestigious Midton when he spotted a bulbous service bot meticulously ploughing snow to the kerbside while gritting the path behind it. Surrounded by slow-moving pedestrians, he had to leap over the bot to keep his momentum, nearly losing his footing again on a slick patch of ice that the bot hadn’t yet reached. Fuck my life! he internally raged, managing to keep his balance thanks to his sturdy boots. Ahead, he caught sight of Gary heading towards a crowd gathered outside the festively decorated Midton Convention Centre on Queneau street.
The large building’s walls were alight with projections of oversized snowflakes cascading down and a Santa’s sleigh zipping back and forth, showering down cheerful, digital gift boxes. A large screen scrolled through announcements in various languages and scripts—Cyrillic, Hanzi characters, French, German, and finally English to announce: ‘Rare Toy & Game Expo!!’
Yes, mate, do it! Emz silently urged.
