Free Terror by Francine Pascal Page B

were either jet black or the darkest possible shade of brown, and they stared through Jake in a way that said no one was home. This guy was either on some hard-core drugs or else a messenger from the seventh ring of hell. Whatever he was, he was licking around his mouth, smearing blood into his three-day-old stubble.
    â€œLove that delicious metallic taste.” He started waving the knife again, this time a bit more threatening, dancing around and then thrusting it in Jake’s direction. Jake kept dodging him but found that the freak’s unpredictability made him hard to contain. If he wasn’t careful, this could end up bad. As in emergency-room bad. Dead bad. Maybe it was time to pull a Gaia and get the hell out of Dodge.
    The knife suddenly plunged toward Jake’s groin. Jake jumped up and backward at once. Uh-uh. That wasn’t going to work. Jake felt that rush of adrenaline he always felt when someone had stepped over the line into the realm of injustice. Instead of nipping thisrush of hot anger in the bud, Jake decided to channel his ire into action. If this guy wanted to play ball, he could play, too. In fact, he would be more than willing to finish the game with a grand slam.
    Jake lunged forward in a mock punch, hoping to draw the guy in. Worked like a charm. When the guy went to slice Jake with the knife, he opened himself up on the weak side. Jake put all his strength into a right leg roundhouse to the temple. The dude hit the pavement like a fallen statue. Crack!
    â€œSee?” assailant two said. “What’d I tell you not to jack with him for?”
    Jake took one last look at the poor dumbass to make sure he was breathing. Sure was. The dude’s chest was heaving like he was having a heart attack. Danger had been averted, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit of relief. Where was Gaia? Had they knocked her out and discarded her? Jake’s body felt hot. Panic was setting in. What had happened to—he could officially say it now—his girlfriend? Jake took off in a slow jog down the middle of the street. He looked left and right.
    â€œGaia?” he said. “Gaia, are you here?
Gaia!”
    There was a rustling sound in the bushes. Jake immediately got into ready position.
    â€œJake,” a voice said. “It’s me.”
    A recognizable form emerged from the shadows. “Gaia?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œAre you okay?” He wasn’t sure which he dreaded more—Gaia being injured or the prospect of her having abandoned him without a scratch.
    â€œI think so, yeah.” Gaia was slouched over and looking at the ground. “I’m really sorry. I thought he had a gun.”
    â€œWait a minute….” Jake shook his head, as if trying to shake free some answers. “So what was I supposed to do? I mean, if he had a gun…”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. That’s why I waited here in the bushes, watching, just to make sure.”
    â€œWell, thanks,” Jake said, without certainty. He could see that Gaia looked really rattled and distressed. Why? It was so incredibly unlike her. A seed kernel of anger started to well up in him at the thought of her bailing on him, but he suppressed it. She was unpredictable, that was all, even more so than he’d imagined. It was as if there was no fundamental Gaia identity, like she was constantly shape shifting and morphing into something slightly different. It was strange, at times annoying, but never boring. He decided not to push the discussion any further for now. There would be time for that.
    â€œI’m so, so sorry, Jake,” Gaia added.
    He put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”
    From: Runner 16
    To: Rizq14176
    Operation successful for the most part. A few hairs with intact roots gathered from subject. Runner14 and I were both badly injured. No witnesses observed.

trash—talking
    The din of