on the run

Who: Danny and Eric
Where: the phone
When: 3 AM

Eight hours now, he’d been running. Eight hours, which meant the papers hadn’t gone to presses yet. The accident had been remote, a solid hour’s drive out of the city before he’d crashed the lot of them. Someone had to have found it by now, but outside the city? Who knew how jurisdictions played out?

So he had a headstart; time to pick his locks and shed his chains, wash away blood, bind shallow cuts and wrap the hand he’d broken the thumb of in his escape. Eric was proud, he’d only needed two of the eight. That had given him ample opportunity to ditch into the woods, skulk the paths of drainage ditches and dirt trails until it yielded a rotten little shack, and steal the threadbare clothes left within.

Then it was a long haul back to town, prison shoes as cheap and worn as his borrowed clothes as Eric walked the wood line parallel to the road for hours. The crash, his injuries, the forced march, and just the sheer mental stress of it all had him as strained as the war ever had when Eric finally made it back to town. At least until he managed to beg some change off a few cab drivers outside of Nighthawks, change he parlayed most of into a cup of coffee.

Strong and bitter, hot enough to snap his senses back, Eric knew the coffee’d have to be enough to see him through this last bit. He just needed to stay clear, sound strong, and hide himself for as long as it took to return to strength. The last dime he had was dropped into the payphone a block down from Nighthawks as Eric stared longingly at the remainder of his coffee, then carefully dialed the number out of the phonebook with his good hand. Only one McKinnon listed in the bits of the city that a cop could afford, the rest were all Sprawl listings... it had to be him, right?

Danny was asleep, a drink induced sleep, when the phone rang. He wasn’t in bed, just the recliner in his living room, which was left him fumbling for the phone, not quite realizing it was the phone in the first place. He finally got his hand on it, sitting up more and running a hand over his head. “‘Lo?”

Grinning to himself despite his exhaustion, Eric had hit a point where the grief and mental turmoil weren’t touching him just yet. Tomorrow, to be sure, but for now? “Detective?” he said in a higher pitch, figuring that and the hour would keep Danny confused. “It’s officer Dupree downtown.” He’d made a point to remember the name of the booking clerk after his fight at the Round, had even kept the paperwork the cop processed for him. “Sorry for the hour, sir, but we need you down at the Echo.”

Danny blinked more, knowing that a call this late could only be work. “The fuck Dupree am I the only one you could call?” He hadn’t slept enough and his head was aching from the booze. “The Echo? What the hell happened?” He sat up more, rubbing his face slightly.

“Oh, nothing,” Eric said with a mindful glance each way, dropping the change in his voice. It was late, only taxis out at the time... everything seemed clear. “I just really want a photographer there. Y’know, so I can see the look on your face.” He gave a small sound of amusement, a single chuckle followed by a sigh. “I told you, Danny boy. You should’ve shot me.”

There was no denying the fact that as tired as he’d been, as dead asleep, all of it was gone the moment the voice on the phone changed. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, cold sweat breaking out down his spine. “You fuck.” He should have shot him. He wished he could have. “You...you fuck.” There was nothing else to say, no other words that properly conveyed how he felt.

“What did I tell you?” Eric asked rhetorically, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder as he reclaimed his coffee. “Everything you had, I gave you. You can feel like you did the right thing, get your name in the paper, and at the end of the day? It happened on my call.” It felt good, good enough that maybe this would buffer Eric against everything else that dragged him low in his own head. “I do appreciate the ride out of town, though.” Let him think Eric was gone, let them think whatever they wanted.

Danny was already on his feet, needing to go into work now, but not able to hang up on this horrid human being. “I didn’t want that you ass. I want you in jail. Where you belong. This is not your game to play.” Though it was, he was pretty sure he was still being moved around like some piece in a bad game.

Pausing long enough to wash down the last of his coffee, Eric was still scanning the streets. The difference now was that he was looking to the buildings, studying for boarded-over windows or any lights on. “You’re right that it’s not a game,” he told Danny. “This is worse. And here’s the thing; if you’d done it right when I turned myself in, not ran your mouth and taken cheap shots on a handcuffed man? I would’ve accepted it. I was ready for it to be over, and you reminded me how nearly every goddamn person in this city is just poison.”

Danny’s eyes went wide, looking around the room, feel of panic in his veins. “What the fuck are you doing. The park again?” They didn’t think that was him, that wasn’t what they’d heard but Danny wasn’t sold that it wasn’t all related. “You’re going to take out the whole city when I’m you’re fucking target? If it’s me your pissed at, come for me.” If he came at Danny, this time Danny wouldn’t hesitate to shoot. “It’s smarter to stay lost Martens.”

“I’d say that’s exactly what I’m doing, staying lost. It’s not like any of you can find me, right?” he asked, chuckling coarsely. “The city’s safe, Danny; safer with a handful of Russians in the ground, even. It won’t miss me and I won’t miss it, trust me.” Not that he was going anywhere, but if they thought he was already gone? So much the better.

“Give me a reason Martens,” Danny said, voice dropped to an angry growl. “Give me a reason and I will give you what you want. I’ll shoot you and you can take your sins up with God himself for all I care.” The hairs were standing up on the back of his neck, bristling in something he rarely felt. Fear.

Chuckling again, Eric almost did just that, but only almost. Coffee could only keep him going so long, and the aches were flaring over every inch of his body again. “Pass, Danny, but I appreciate the offer. Sweet dreams, kid,” he said before abruptly dropping the phone back on the cradle, not even lingering a moment before Eric turned and started a pained walk up the street. It was time to rest, to heal, and most crucial? It was time to plan.

Danny wanted to say something else, but the line went dead. Holding the phone out he stared at it for a moment then threw it across the room swearing loudly. There was a moment where he stood there, both hands in hair, not sure what to do yet. It passed though and instinct took over. He was headed into the office and they were going to find this bastard all over again.