“Remains to be seen,” I yelled to him.
Nobody cares!
“Don't doubt it for a minute, Sugar. Think only positive thoughts.”
“Emmanuel is fast, too. That's positively the ruth.”
Nobody cares!
“We're faster, stronger, tougher than Manny ever dreamed of being.”
“Better trash talkers,” I huffed. Just one huff, but a huff all the same.
“That, too, Sugar. Goes without saying.”
We followed Perez/Chop-It-Off out onto Seventh Street, which is lined with four- and five-story row houses, bombed-out stores, a few tank bars.
Perez suddenly turned into a beaten-down Federal-style building near the middle of the block. The windows were mostly boarded with sheet metal, looking like silver teeth in a rotting mouth.
“He seems to know what the hell he's doing,” Sampson yelled.
“Knows where he's going.”
“At least that makes one of us.”
Sampson and I entered the sagging, ramshackle building several strides behind Perez. The strong smell of urine and decay was everywhere. As we climbed the steep, reinforced concrete stairs, I could feel a fire spreading into my chest.
“Had his escape route all figured out!” I huffed. A definite huff.
“He's smart.”
'He's trying to escape from us. That's not too smart. Never happen...
WE GOT YOU, MANNY!' Sampson yelled up the stairs.
His voice echoed like thunder in the narrow quarters. “HEY, MANNY! MANNY, MANNY, MANNY!”
“Stop! Police! Manny Perez, stop!” Sampson shouted at the fleeing suspect. He had his gun out, a nasty 9mm Glock.
We could hear Perez still running above us, his sneakers slapping stairs. He didn't yell back. Nobody else was on the stairs or in any of the stairwells. Nobody cared that there was a police chase going on inside the building.
“You think Perez really did it?” I yelled to Sampson.
“He did something. He's running like his ass is on fire. Spreading right up his spinal cord.”
“Yeah. We lit the fuse.”
We burst out a gray metal door Onto a broad, uneven expanse of tar roof. Overhead the sky was a cool, hard blue. There were shiny surfaces and maximum glare everywhere. There was nothing but bright blue sky above. I had the urge to take off--fly away from all of this. The urge, but not the means.
Where the hell had he gone? He was nowhere in sight. Where was Emmanuel Perez? Where was the Sojourner Truth School killer?
Chimera.
“FUCK YOU, peachfuzz,” Perez suddenly yelled. “You hear me, peachfuzz?”
“Peachfuzz?” Sampson looked at me and made a face.
I saw a quick flash of Chop-it-Off-Chucky He was off to our extreme right. He was sprinting across a connecting rooftop and was already about thirty yards away I saw him grab a quick, worried look back over his shoulder.
His small eyes were hard black beads, evil-looking as they come. He had that weird red beard. Maybe he was a total psycho.
Or maybe he really was just a pizza-store porter? Forget it, I told myself.
Four teenage boys and a girl were up there on the roof doing their sneaky business. Crack, probably I hoped they weren't snorting heroin. They idly watched the wild, wild world go by The real city game was in progress here. Cops and robbers. Child molester-killers. It made no difference to these kids.
Sampson and I covered three more narrow rooftops in a powerful hurry. We were gaining on him a little, but only by a step or two. Sweat was running down my forehead and cheeks, burning my eyes.
“Stop! We'll shoot!” I yelled. 'Stop, Emmanuel Perez?
Perez looked back again. He looked straight at me this time and grinned! Then he seemed to disappear over the far side of the brick-walled building.
“Fire escape!” Sampson yelled.
Seconds later, the two of us were rushing headlong down skinny, twisting, rusted metal stairs. Perez flew down the flimsy fire escape ahead of us. He was really moving. This was definitely his event, his home course.
Sampson and I were both too big for the tight-radius maneuvering. He gained a full flight on us, maybe a flight and a half.
Chucky definitely had an escape route figured out, I was thinking.
