Free 0513485001343534196 christopher fowler by personal demons by christopher fowler Page A

where you were going, either. You just changed lanes back there without any indication.'
    'Did I? I'm sorry, I didn't realise - I'm in kind of a hurry...'
    The cop made no move to write him a ticket, but just stood there, staring down at the car. His glasses reflected Brett's sweating face. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you in,' he said finally.
    'What do you mean?' he asked, incredulous. 'Can't you just write me out -'
    '" And I looked, and beheld a pale horse ,"' said the cop, '" and his name that sat on him was Death ." Get out of the car, sir.'
    Brett had only a second to make his decision. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and fishtailed on to the freeway ramp in a plume of blue smoke before the cop had a chance to run back to his bike. As he tacked across the busy lanes and the Mercedes' powerful engine gave a guttural roar, he knew he had to get out of town fast, but how? Heading down the freeway, it seemed as if everyone was watching him. The guy in shades in the convertible, the gardeners in the truck with rakes on the roof, the family of Born-Agains in their RV, everyone was goading him on. Who could he trust? Worse still, it looked as if the other drivers were laughing at him, knowing that he couldn't escape. Was he losing his mind?
    There was no time to think. Behind he could see the flashing blue lights of two motorcycle cops as they wove smartly through the traffic toward him. Ahead, two lanes of the freeway were closed for repairs. Pulsing electric arrows were redirecting columns of vehicles. Already, the traffic was starting to back up. He slowed down and swung hard right on to a downtown off-ramp, his tyres screaming as they fought to grip the edge of the curve. Before the bikes had a chance to catch up, he pulled down into the shadows beneath the freeway bridge and killed the engine. Dust sprayed around the car. He stayed there for some while with his head resting on the wheel, sweat dripping into his eyes.
    Brett punched out the number of his office and waited for his secretary to answer, but the call was switched over to her voicemail. That was strange
    - Irene hardly ever left her post during the day. Suspicious, he quickly rang off. He rolled the Mercedes into a backstreet and tried to formulate a game plan. He had no functioning credit cards and about forty dollars in his pocket. It was 11.45 a.m. He had until midnight to prevent the prophecy of the Book of Daniel from fulfilling itself.
    The owner of the used car lot was naturally suspicious, but not so suspicious that he was going to pass up the bargain of a lifetime. After all, the guy's papers were all in order, every Mercedes service scrupulously entered in the logbook. If he wanted to trade it for a clapped-out '79
    Oldsmobile Cutlass convertible and a fistful of bills, why argue?
    Brett headed for the airport in his downgraded new car, tearing the price stickers off as he drove, but the freeway was at a standstill. It seemed as if the whole city was gridlocked. In desperation he considered driving to Long Beach and chartering a boat, but even that option proved impossible. The traffic was flowing in one direction only, and it was not the direction he wanted to go. Resigned to being grounded in LA, he figured that the best thing would be to find Lisa; she seemed to be the only one who might have an idea of what would happen to him. As he headed into Miracle Mile, he was amazed to see the church's symbol painted everywhere - on buildings, cars, sidewalks, even on people's clothing. The cryptic symbol looked more and more like a giant bird in a ring of flame. It was as if the entire city was going crazy, as if everyone wanted this cleansing apocalypse to occur.
    The Cutlass coasted past crowds of worshippers gathered along the sides of the road. They made the salute of the church as he passed, the sign of Daniel Waking. It was almost as if they had been expecting him to pass along this route. He tried tuning the radio. LAX was shut for