Free Identity X by Michelle Muckley

the inside.  “Why the fuck is
that bullet proof?”  The confusion of his survival had for a few seconds
shielded him from the realisation that somebody had just made an attempt on his
life.  When the next bullet hit the glass panel it woke him from his daydream. 
He could hear screams coming from outside, as the crowd fluttered around like
the feathers of a terrified bird, and he knew that there was no way out through
these doors.  He back heeled his way up the stairs, climbing frantically on all
fours and dragging himself to the top.  Stopping briefly to catch his breath,
he scrambled to his feet and raced into the empty laboratory. 
    “What
the fuck is going on?” he screamed through panicked and desperate breaths, the
room spinning around him.  His mind switched to survival mode, and his eyes
scanned the room for another exit.  The only way out that didn’t involve going
down the stairs was out through the windows.  He could hear somebody at the
door downstairs.  There was no time for consideration.  Downstairs or waiting
here was certain to bring only one thing and he didn’t want to think about
that.  His only choice was the window.
    He
opened the latch and slid back the mirrored glass and dust blew up from inside
the frame.  He wasn’t even sure he had ever looked out here before, or if this
window had been opened in the last four years.  He moved his head and shoulders
forwards to peer outside and he could feel the wind whipping past with a
greater force than down at the level of the pavement.  The odour of food from
the sandwich shop teased him from below, carried forth by the heat of their
whirring extractor fan, circling upwards like a twister.  He pulled his head
back inside for a hesitative moment, but could still hear the door being shoved
back and forth from the outside just meters away from him.  It had to be done. 
He ran across the floor and snatched up his telephone and identity card and
without a second thought he hauled his body up and over the window frame.  He
balanced his feet down onto the small ledge that was beneath him.  Resting his
finger tips onto the adjacent window frame and pushing his shoulder up into the
vertical support columns that held the building in the ground, he slid the open
window back into a closed position.  His jacket billowed behind him, and the
friendly oncoming winds pushed him closer into the wall.  He shimmied his feet
along the ledge and gripped the wall to stop himself shaking, and by wrapping
his body around the vertical columns he made progress along the ridge.  He
couldn’t see through the mirrored glass properly, but could almost convince
himself that he could see movement in his old laboratory.  If he could see
through, then maybe there was a chance that whoever was inside could see out. 
There wasn’t time to waste hanging around making assumptions and predictions. 
He had to find a way off this ledge fast, before whoever was inside with the
gun that had unleashed the bullets only minutes before, realised where he had
disappeared to.
    As he
approached the corner of the building he could see another building attached. 
The mood of the wind was as fickle as it was strong and as it blew around the
corner he had to fight with all his strength to hang on.  The attached building
had a flat roof and he could almost taste its safety like the satisfaction of a
warm hot chocolate on a winter’s day.  It looked a damn sight safer than where
he was currently precariously perched.  As he manoeuvred his body around the
corner of the building he screamed when he suddenly felt the sharpest and most
surreal of pains that he had ever experienced.  It was a tight searing pain,
hot and acidic.  He looked down towards his right shoulder and he could see
that there was a bloody looking opening in the top of his arm.  It looked more
like a graze than a hole and Ben prayed that whatever it was that had caused
the damage on his suit had slipped past