Time stretches. Like being in a car accident.
The figure on the stairs wears my face, mirrors my shock. Or perhaps he is shocked by the gun the brunette next to me aims at him.
The phone still rings in my pocket. Lyle’s voice shouts somewhere above us.
I grab the phone and look at the screen. Lyle.
An explosion goes off in my ear. The brunette has fired the gun.
The figure on the stairs below us, the guy who looks just like me, runs away.
“Follow him!” the brunette yells.
I look at her. She aims the gun up the stairwell and lets rip with another shot.
Suddenly I am present. I toss the phone down the stairwell and charge after the guy that looks like me. The brunette follows. Another shot rings out. Not her gun this time.
We run. She shoots. Lyle shoots back. The brunette slams into me. We both fall. She is hit.
“Go!” she shouts at me.
I go. The brunette and Lyle exchange gunfire.
The guy that looks like me reaches the ground floor when I am on the third. He leaves the building. I panic. Push myself harder. I must not let him get away.
The sunlight outside blinds me. I stop running. Squint. Catch my breath. My eyes adjust.
Just up ahead the guy who looks like me and the squat guy are in a fight. They grapple on the ground. I approach them. I do not know what to do.
Inside the building, the brunette and Lyle still shoot at each other.
The guy who looks like me gets the squat guy in a choke hold. Squat guy passes out. The guy who looks like me rolls over onto his back, sucks air. Then reaches a hand to me. I take it and help him to his feet. There are no more gunshots inside the building.
“Come,” the guy who looks like me says. He straightens and jogs away. I run after him.