Free Spitting Image by Patrick LeClerc

they keep coming after me? I was warned, and they knew that. Was that reason enough for them to give up on the plan?
    I hated working with so little information. I didn’t know what move to make next.
    But, I knew what they wanted, and that was something. And I knew what they could do, at least some of it, so I would have to stay sharp, try to figure out if anybody I knew was being impersonated. Maybe that would tip me off.
    Sometimes, when you don’t know how to get through your opponent’s defense, the best thing to do is wait for his attack. Lure him in and turn the tables. Rope a dope.
    I sighed. Maybe they would call the whole thing off.
    As I got out of the mountains, I turned the radio on. I was tired of thinking, and the factory issue stereo in Vlad the Impala didn’t pick up much north of Lincoln. I scanned until I found a classic rock channel. I smiled a bit as the DJ announced a Bruce Springsteen double shot.
    When the first song turned out to be “Trapped,” my smile twisted into a smirk, but it wasn’t until the second track that I was sure life was fucking with me.
    So, like the old soldier I am, I shrugged and sang along to “Brilliant Disguise.”

Chapter 10
    “PARAMEDIC TWENTY. P-20,” the radio crackled. “Respond to River College. On the quad, for the person down.”
    Pete rolled his eyes and answered. “P 20. Man down on the quad.” He flipped on the lights and pulled out of the parking lot.
    “Hangover?” I asked. “It’s early in the day for a drunk or an OD.”
    “Some college kid is taking a midmorning nap under a tree, just like in the brochures and some Cellphone Samaritan decided to be a hero and call 911,” Pete replied. “And when we get there, some campus cop who thinks he’s friggin’ Serpico is going to browbeat this kid into taking a ride to the ER.”
    “Where would we be without the Cellphone Samaritan?” I wondered.
    “In my Happy Place,” he replied. “Hey, isn’t that where your girlfriend works? Maybe if we get a refusal you can swing by and get a little somethin’. I’ll stay in the truck and cover for you. I mean, you’re only gonna need like, what? Five minutes?”
    “You are too kind,” I said. “But, nice as the thought is, she’s not working today.” I didn’t bother telling him she was reconsidering our relationship because she was tired of having her life threatened. I really wasn’t interested in relationship advice from Pete.
    We pulled off the main road onto the campus. It was pretty, in that nondescript academic style. Red brick buildings with white trim, green swathes of lawn, stately trees, a statue. Probably some Papist graven image, rather than some wealthy donor, since this was a Jesuit school.
    “This look like a quad to you?” asked Pete.
    I took in the expanse of green, dotted with students now peering with interest at the ambulance, curious as to what drama we might provide. “That would be my guess.”
    “You see a man down?”
    “Nope.”
    “I do see some crazy hot chicks in shorts, though. Damn, I love the first week the students are back when it’s still summer,” Pete said. He drew in a sharp breath as two young women lying on blankets in the sun sat up and waved. “You think those girls are legal?”
    “This is college,” I said, “so most of them should be over eighteen. Which would make them legal for you to chase. Icky, maybe, but legal.”
    “Icky I can live with,” he said. “Going to Hell is one thing. Probably get to see all my friends. But I’m too pretty for jail.” He raised his voice and shouted to the young women. “Hi there! You didn’t call 911 did you?”
    “No,” said one, smiling.
    “There’s still time,” said Pete. “If you’re feeling faint, we could check you out, make sure everything’s OK.”
    They laughed at Pete’s line like it was original and shook their heads. Maybe they hadn’t heard it before. They probably hadn’t met Pete, since they weren’t running away.
    I