The standard disclaimer about who owns Dark Angel characters applies. (It's not me, folks)
Dawn appears courtesy of Dawn, who has kindly permitted me to use her name and likeness so she can read about herself.
**************** Three weeks since the last time he'd been behind the wheel. Headlights in the rear-view mirror brought back vivid memories.
The SUV rolling off the road, and down into the water -- he was lucky to be alive.
He'd been lucky to get out through the broken window as the water rushed in. With the last kick to get clear, he'd felt something, glass, twisted metal, biting into his leg. He'd cut his shoelaces, and the knife had slipped from his fingers as he kicked off boots, and shrugged out of the leather jacket that felt like it was dragging him to the bottom.
After much too long in the cold water, he'd found himself part way up a shallow slope of beach. The waves were trying to suck him back as they receded, and the wind was removing any last traces of warmth from his body. He couldn't make the importance of getting out of the water translate into actual motion up the beach. It finally occurred to him to wonder if he'd been loosing blood.
Then the wind-driven spray around him lit up. He could see the headlights of a truck driving down the slope towards him. It stopped just above the debris at the high-water line. He wondered if he should let himself slide back into the water to evade whoever was about to step out of the truck and finish him off.
The truck's driver was a young woman, in a red windbreaker and jeans with the knees missing. When she got closer, he could see that her surplus-store jump boots were in desperate need of polish. She leaned down to touch his face, and he'd managed to lift his head to look her in the eye. The wind was turning her short brown hair into a chaotic halo around a pale face. Her mouth opened in what might have been surprise, or, under different circumstances, recognition.
He was lucky that she had the wiry strength to drag him out of the water.
The next morning he'd found out that her name was Dawn. It was strange that she hadn't done the sensible thing -- drop him off at the nearest emergency room. But, that was lucky as well. Donald Michael Lydecker was wanted by the police. Vertes and McGinnes were only the beginning of that list.
So he'd had a couple of weeks to think about how lucky he was. He felt trapped in Dawn's tiny apartment, but the alternatives were much worse.
"Luck hurts," he thought as he slowed the truck for the exit ramp. "Me now, but someone else soon."
He was beginning to wonder what sort of pay-back Dawn was going to want for fishing him out of the icy water and keeping him as a house guest since then. Every so often, he'd catch the young woman looking at him. She would always drop her eyes, and the faintest trace of embarrassed guilt would flash across her face. He could do without that sort of distraction for this trip, so he'd waited until she was asleep to swipe her keys, limp down the stairs from her apartment, and pay an after-hours visit to BM Corporation. One of Renfro's business partners had signed the lease on the building, and Dek wanted to know what was going on there, badly enough to go check for himself.
He quickly identified the darkest spot in the empty parking lot. He pulled Dawn's truck into it, and killed the engine. No signs of life in the allegedly deserted office building, and no traffic on the access road.
He gathered his mental focus, and the breaking and entering tools from the passenger seat. He checked that the dome light was in the 'off' position, and opened the door. Getting out of the driver's seat was a challenge. The gashes in his left leg were a long way from being healed. He checked that the Pathfinder's keys were in his pocket, and closed the door.
"Vanity is a stupid vice," Lydecker reminded himself. "And not even as much fun a fifth of Jack Daniels." The door creaked open, and he added the cane to his collection of hardware.
**************** Three weeks since the last time he'd been behind the wheel. Headlights in the rear-view mirror brought back vivid memories.
The SUV rolling off the road, and down into the water -- he was lucky to be alive.
He'd been lucky to get out through the broken window as the water rushed in. With the last kick to get clear, he'd felt something, glass, twisted metal, biting into his leg. He'd cut his shoelaces, and the knife had slipped from his fingers as he kicked off boots, and shrugged out of the leather jacket that felt like it was dragging him to the bottom.
After much too long in the cold water, he'd found himself part way up a shallow slope of beach. The waves were trying to suck him back as they receded, and the wind was removing any last traces of warmth from his body. He couldn't make the importance of getting out of the water translate into actual motion up the beach. It finally occurred to him to wonder if he'd been loosing blood.
Then the wind-driven spray around him lit up. He could see the headlights of a truck driving down the slope towards him. It stopped just above the debris at the high-water line. He wondered if he should let himself slide back into the water to evade whoever was about to step out of the truck and finish him off.
The truck's driver was a young woman, in a red windbreaker and jeans with the knees missing. When she got closer, he could see that her surplus-store jump boots were in desperate need of polish. She leaned down to touch his face, and he'd managed to lift his head to look her in the eye. The wind was turning her short brown hair into a chaotic halo around a pale face. Her mouth opened in what might have been surprise, or, under different circumstances, recognition.
He was lucky that she had the wiry strength to drag him out of the water.
The next morning he'd found out that her name was Dawn. It was strange that she hadn't done the sensible thing -- drop him off at the nearest emergency room. But, that was lucky as well. Donald Michael Lydecker was wanted by the police. Vertes and McGinnes were only the beginning of that list.
So he'd had a couple of weeks to think about how lucky he was. He felt trapped in Dawn's tiny apartment, but the alternatives were much worse.
"Luck hurts," he thought as he slowed the truck for the exit ramp. "Me now, but someone else soon."
He was beginning to wonder what sort of pay-back Dawn was going to want for fishing him out of the icy water and keeping him as a house guest since then. Every so often, he'd catch the young woman looking at him. She would always drop her eyes, and the faintest trace of embarrassed guilt would flash across her face. He could do without that sort of distraction for this trip, so he'd waited until she was asleep to swipe her keys, limp down the stairs from her apartment, and pay an after-hours visit to BM Corporation. One of Renfro's business partners had signed the lease on the building, and Dek wanted to know what was going on there, badly enough to go check for himself.
He quickly identified the darkest spot in the empty parking lot. He pulled Dawn's truck into it, and killed the engine. No signs of life in the allegedly deserted office building, and no traffic on the access road.
He gathered his mental focus, and the breaking and entering tools from the passenger seat. He checked that the dome light was in the 'off' position, and opened the door. Getting out of the driver's seat was a challenge. The gashes in his left leg were a long way from being healed. He checked that the Pathfinder's keys were in his pocket, and closed the door.
"Vanity is a stupid vice," Lydecker reminded himself. "And not even as much fun a fifth of Jack Daniels." The door creaked open, and he added the cane to his collection of hardware.
