Chapter 3
Grand Theft Motorcycle
My ragged breathing was surely not a good sign. Chase/Storm was sprawled out among the shards of glass, trying weakly to get up.
"Damn plate glass doors . . ." he groaned as he finally righted himself. The Seekers were running towards us on all sides, and as he helped me to my feet I heard a cop car pull up, full sirens on and everything.
Putting our hands up, we waited to die, or do something of the sort. The hot Vancouver air scorched our psyches, drawing our minds to a blank state. I looked at Chase/Storm, but his eyes were looking past me.
"On the count of three, run for that motorcycle," he muttered to me as the Seekers closed in, guns drawn. One held a flashlight, and I cringed as the light reflected off of my contacts. Chase/Storm didn't even blink as the light bounced back at them. "Three . . ."
I felt my hair being lifted up at the back of my neck, and fingers running over the makeshift scar once. "Two . . ."
I saw the officers dragging their handcuffs out, which looked like they hadn't been used, ever.
"ONE!" Chase/Storm yelled, and we pushed through the crowd of onlookers, heading for the green racing bike that was so innocently perched on the curb, keys in the ignition. Nobody bothered with things like that anymore, so it didn't concern me as we pulled away from the curb, bullets ricocheting off the concrete behind us.
I had barely time to think as we merged with traffic, my arms clasped like iron locks around his slim waist. The thin pink scar on his neck was barely visible under his mane of dirty blonde hair, and I could just see his eyes, the same strange honey tint as mine, scanning the traffic as we weaved between lanes.
I could hear the cop cars behind us as we raced though a red light, and I dared a look back. Stuck behind cars ten deep in each lane, we'd be in the next city before they got to the next intersection.
Suddenly the bike swerved and I let out an involuntary scream, the trail of blood from my wounds no longer whipping out behind me, but hitting the right side of my hair again.
"Chill out, Morg! I'm taking the exit, so hold on," he revved the Japanese bike even further, and it launched forward down the off-ramp, leaving me breathless. I could hear the traffic go over the bridge, and the cop cars follow the flow. They had lost us!
"Storm!" I yelled.
He glanced back at me. "They following?"
I shook my head, grinning like a fool. "No! They think we went over the bridge! We're home free!" I yelled, relief colouring my voice. It barely registered that we had no helmets on, another broken Canadian law.
He laughed, and I almost burst into tears from joy from another thought: we were together again.
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As we pulled into the shop at the back of his old lot, a number of thoughts came flooding back: Illustrates Fire was obviously his older brother Sanderson, but taken over, and his mother Marylynne was the woman who was friends with Mid, also taken over. It saddened me to think of his entire family, gone.
"Nobody's been here for a long time. The property's off in the forest, so why would they even bother taking it?" he was saying as he rolled down the garage door, swinging the keys to the Yamaha on one finger.
I got off of the bike stiffly, losing my balance and falling over. Chase/Storm caught me just in time, pulling me upright again. Not releasing my hands, he leaned down and kissed my forehead lightly. Looking up at him, I saw the fire in his eyes as he looked at me, not caring if I was covered in blood and powdered glass.
Opening my mouth, I had to swallow before speaking. "Chase?" I asked, caressing his face in one hand.
He nodded. "Both of us. Chase is in there. I let him out sometimes, when I get alone time. It's interesting to from see his point of view, all locked up and having someone else control your body. Today in the mall, I let my guard down. The conversation bored me, so I let him out to take my place, like a stunt double in my head. But then Chase took over fully, and I was trapped. He was the one who got us into this mess. Then, as he realised what he had done, he slipped back again. Shock does that to him. He relayed me a plan, and I followed his lead. I knew how much you meant to him. I'm not afraid of humans, thanks to Chase. He's taught me that the propaganda we're taught in school about humans is a lie."
"Oh, Chase . . ." I said, wrapping my arms around him.
"I love you, Morgan," he said. "We both do."