"I'll pack my things," Kane said, briskly picking up a duffel bag and stuffing clothes and other items inside. The Coyote chuckled harshly.

"What do you think this is, vacation?" the Coyote growled. "I said there're fifteen Steins waiting right outside to arrest you, now. It'll look mighty suspicious lugging that duffel you have." Plain logic. Kane took a few seconds to register this, then dropped the bag to the ground. The match in his hand wavered.

"So what are we going to do?" Kane asked slowly.

"I've got something goin’," the Coyote said. "This apartment come with a fire escape?"

"Yeah. Goes into the back alley."

The Coyote paced, intensely thinking. "Did the Steins have the back covered? Maybe, maybe not." He looked up, twirling the knife. "I'll take my chances with the fire escape. Where is it?"

Kane walked him to the window in his bedroom. He disliked the Coyote, but admired him for quick thinking. Kane opened the window and stepped out heavily, the metal platform outside rattling.

"Careful, you fool!" the Coyote hissed, clambering out like a cat. He barely leaned over the edge of the fire escape, peering down. "No one. Man, these Steinies must be stupid or just as slow as snails. Close the window."

Kane followed his directions, pulling the glass pane shut. "Why?"

"So if they come into your apartment, we won't be pointin' fingers straight to where we left." Logic. Logic once again.

They ran down the fire escape, quickly descending while attempting to move as quietly as possible. I might be leaving this place, Kane thought, it finally hitting him. I might finally escape from the Steins. The wonderful feeling. The Coyote snapped him back the reality with a sharp bark. "Now's the hard part."

The Coyote let down the final stairs, which swung in a wide arc until it clashed straight down. In a bound both men were into the alley. "Follow me," rasped the Coyote, dashing through the maze of crevices between buildings, as if he was born to dash like the wind. Kane was surprised by the speed, but pumped his legs in powerful motions and kept up. They kept running until they were out into the open street.

"And... Stop right there! We've got you!" A Stein climbed out a police car and pointed an AK-47 at the Coyote's chest. A radio was in his hand, and he was shouting out where he was to all Steins in a twenty-mile radius.

The Coyote swore, then swore once more.

They probably wouldn't have survived that moment if it weren't for some quick thinking on the Coyote's part. Or reflex. In a flash, he threw his Bowie knife with an expert aim, and the next thing Kane saw was blood gushing out from the Stein's neck and the Stein falling to the ground.

In a second, the Coyote retrieved his knife and decided to take the AK-47 too. He threw the gun into the police car, then jumped in. He glanced sideways at Kane.

"You know I'm still getting paid no matter if you're standing there or not," the Coyote shouted. Kane ran into the police car and shut the door. Several panels on the dashboard showed surveillance everywhere. "Now we see what they see and'll know what they know. And we got a ride," the Coyote added.

He gunned the gas; the car shot forward easily and responsively. "Sweet," the Coyote said, smiling with respect for the Stein's police chasers. "Take that gun over there, I'm no use at shooting."

Kane gingerly held the firearm. "Neither am I. I've never held a gun in my life! How do you aim?"

The Coyote shrugged. "Pull the trigger and hope for the best." Some chasers squealed around a corner and drove up towards them, fast. "Here's practice."

Kane wanted to scream. This wasn't a game, he didn't care how many times the Coyote had done this before. He rolled down the window and leaned out, pointing the AK-47 towards an accelerating car.

The radio barked out: "Officer Nussen! What the devil do you think that you’re doing? Turn that gun around and point at the target, not-"

Kane fired. The recoil almost wrenched the gun out of his grip, but he held on. Bullets peppered the road and the car in all directions, uncontrolled despite Kane's attempts to hold the shots in a tight circle on the car's tire. Then it ended; there was a fearsome few seconds of denial as the gun emptily clicked, and the bullets cease to shoot out. Kane realized there must be a limited amount of ammunition that must be refilled.

"I'm out of ammo!" Kane yelled. "How do I reload?"

"No idea!" the Coyote cried back over the wind rushing in from the open window. "I'ma try to lose 'em!"

The Coyote turned sharply to the left, the following cars reacting late to the turn. One spun out. Then the Coyote began weaving through streets, roads, avenues, anything - just to get the cars of their tail. It worked somewhat, until only two cars followed them.

"I have a plan," the Coyote said. "Get ready to bail."
“What’s bailing?” Kane asked, slightly embarrassed that he didn’t know a word the Coyote used so effortlessly.
“Jumping out of the car while it’s still moving,” the Coyote quickly explained while keeping his eyes on the road. Kane mentally connected this to old films of brave protagonists leaping out of vehicles, remembering how usually car would then explode while in motion. It wouldn’t seem as adventurous this time, though. Kane winced as he thought of the prospect of hitting the ground at the velocity of a speeding car.

The Coyote accelerated it around a corner, going into a dimly lit street. Turned again. And again. Suddenly he slowed down.

"Bail! I'll be right behind!"

Kane opened the door and leapt out, rolling several times on the hard pavement, scraping himself all over. He saw the Coyote bail too, but the car kept driving, faster and faster, forward.
"Alley!" the Coyote ordered. They ran for a narrow space between two crumbling apartments, pressing tight against the walls. The two police cars streamed by. Kane admired the Coyote even more. He'd rigged the car to keep driving, a big decoy.

They dispersed into the night, shadows in the darkness, timeless and safe. Safe. That word was savored by Kane's mind.

They kept on going until Kane collapsed to the ground, spent.

“I’m sorry, can’t go on… I think we should rest here for the night,” Kane said, waving an arm. He sat down, leaning his head against the brick walls of a building.

The Coyote shook his head. “Are you crazy? You’ve got a bunch of Stein officers wantin’ your head on a platter, and you want to dandle about in the city? I want to be in the countryside by night.” He kept on walking, expecting Kane to stand and follow.

“No,” Kane urged, shaking his head in reply. “It’s easier to blend in in the city. Once we’re in the country, we have to keep moving.”

The Coyote turned around, an inspecting look on his face, as if searching Kane’s mind to see if his words were of any intelligence. Then he sighed, whistling air through his teeth. “Whatever. You’re paying me, anyways.” He extended a hand to help Kane up. “Let’s go find an inconspicuous motel to stay for the night.

The two men ambled around the city for a while until they found a sign that said “Cheap Rooms! Always Welcome. CRAW Motel.”

Kane looked at the Coyote and half-heartedly shrugged. “Looks good,” he admitted.
The Coyote was eager to get off the open streets. “Let’s go in. Fake names. We pay with cash.”

“But no one uses cash anymore, that’s bound to draw attention.”
The Coyote raised his eyebrows. “Less attention than our credit cards bein’ traced? Look, unless you wanna sleep on the cold alleys of the city, this is our best bet.”

Kane nodded, and they walked inside. There were flickering lights, thick layers of dust, a few chairs set down in a corner. The lobby was tiny. At the front desk, there was a snoring lady with disheveled hair.

Kane tried to think of something smart. “You know, we could just climb over, take a key, and get into a room free. She wouldn’t notice, and there’d be no way we could be tracked.”

The Coyote was quick to respond, speaking in a harsh whisper. “And risk her noticing a lost key when she wakes up? No. You have to act like a normal citizen, not a wanted man trying to sneak through the city.” He cleared his throat. “Ma’am?”

The lady remained sleeping, so the Coyote strode over and rapped loudly on the counter. “Ma’am!”

With a start, the woman jerked upwards, staring straight ahead with wild eyes. “Who’s that?”

Kane intervened and tried to calm her down. He used a soothing tone. “Miss, we’re just looking for someplace to stay for the night. We were walking outside, and we happened to see your sign."

The lady’s breathing slowed. “Customers… So, one night?”

The Coyote answered. “Yeah.”

“Two beds?”

Kane began to grow impatient with the lady’s clueless manner. “Yeah?”

“Need a TV?”

The Coyote smiled roughly, placing his palm on the table. “Look, lady. Can you just get us the lowest package, just with two beds with warm covers? This’s overcomplicating things.”

The lady looked a little surprised, but only nodded. “Okay… I think Room Twelve is the cheapest two bed we have, cause it doesn’t have a television or bathroom inside.” She reached back onto the wall behind her, and selected the key hanging under a tiny plaque that read 12. “Here. That’d be twenty dollars.”

The Coyote smiled. “Thanks.” He grabbed the key, and began to pull out his wallet.

The lady took out a clipboard from under the counter. “Sign right here, both of you.”

The Coyote signed his name as Terry Watson, which Kane could only assume to be a pseudonym. Kane quickly came up with a false name and signed as Herman Blue.

“Good. Twenty dollars.”

The Coyote handed her a twenty dollar bill. The lady looked puzzled.

“Sorry, sir, we don’t accept cash. Only debit or credit cards or chargeable I.D.s.”

Kane shrugged in apology. “We don’t have any cards on us. Will you take it…?”

The lady sighed. “Alright. Your room is on ground level; take a straight right as you’re leaving.”

“Thanks,” Kane and the Coyote answered in unison. The lady nodded, then reclined in her chair, her eyes fluttering back to sleep.

“See?” the Coyote mentored. “It’s that easy.”

The two men left the lobby and walked outside, the cool air rushing past them. On the road, some Stein police cars squealed by.

“Are they looking for us?” Kane asked, apprehensive. The Coyote shrugged, stopping by a door with some rusty numerals nailed onto it.

“Number twelve,” the Coyote mumbled, inserting the key into the doorknob. After fiddling with it for a while, he finally got the door to open. The Coyote walked inside and flicked the light switch, upon which a flickering incandescent light bulb barely shuddered on, casting the room into a dim orange. “I hate these motels,” he sighed.

Kane ambled over to a bed and pulled the cover off of it. It smelled very musty, but Kane didn’t care. He laid himself onto the springy mattress.

“You’re not gonna take a bath?” asked the Coyote, who closed the motel door and locked it.

“No bathroom.”

The Coyote paused. “Shoot, I just realized that. We just gonna have to stay dirty.” He sat down on his bed. “Man. We’re gonna have to make a plan for tomorrow. Now the Steins had some time to get their defenses up, it’s gonna be a nightmare to get out of the city, not considering that they might stop right at our little motel door. Once we’re out, though, we’re fine.”

Kane shook his head. “I can’t say I agree. They operate outside the city, too. And there are fewer pathways to take in the countryside, less roads. And we still have to get food, water, rest… are you sure you know how to do this?”

A wicked grin spread on the Coyote’s face. “I’ve done this somethin’ like six times before. Yeah. You hired me, so this’s all you gonna get whether you like it or not. Or you can pay me half the price and I’d ditch you right here on the streets.”

There was a tense moment before the Coyote turned off the lights and both men slowly went to sleep.

The sun shone through the uncurtained windows, jarring Kane awake. He shrugged off the dusty covers of his bed, looking sideways. The Coyote was already awake, staring at Kane. He seemed as if he’d been waiting for a long time.

“How long have you been there?” Kane asked.

“Just ‘bout before sunrise. I’m an early-bird type.” The Coyote slid off of his bed, and stretched. “It’s around six o’clock. We better go.”

Kane nodded. The quicker they got moving, the less chance of getting caught. Kane quickly released himself from a sleepy stupor and unlocked the door. Outside was quiet, no cars passed by on the roads, the sun hazily drifting upwards. The skyscraper part of the city was silhouetted by the light.

The Coyote stood beside him. “We better go before it gets too bright. ‘Sides, we gotta find us someplace to eat.”

They walked to the lobby and slapped the keys down onto the table where the lady still slept. “Let’s not bother waking her up to tell her that we’re leaving,” Kane advised. The Coyote agreed.

Within ten minutes they were jogging on the sidewalk, cool air slicing across their faces. After making a few turns, the Coyote led Kane to a small shack selling some fruits. It was made rotting wood and an old man presided over it, so they were both pretty sure that the man took cash.

As they stopped, the old man gave a toothless grin, a few brown teeth appearing. “This’s me Fruit Stand. Me own Fruit Stand. What’dyou want t’day? P’haps some pineapples? Grapes? Mangoes?”

The Coyote spoke. “D’you have any apples? We just want a quick snack while going to jog.”

The old man nodded vigourously. “Apples, apples. Gotta have them apples. P’haps you’da like summa Granny Smith, or’a Fuji, or’a Red delicious, or’a summa-”

“Calm down, sir. Fuji’s fine.”

“How many? Gotta know how many! Can’t do nuttin’ without knowin’ howa-”

“Four.”

The man nodded, then stuffed four Fuji apples into a plastic bag. “A dollar per apple.”

The Coyote paid, and the two men hastily left the cranky old man and his fruit stand. Kane made a mental note not to stop by a shabby shack again. As they jogged and chomped on their apples, the Coyote explained the game plan to Kane. “Okay, Kane, listen… it’s not gonna be as easy as I might have implied it would be to get out of this city.”

Kane kept moving, but spoke slowly, sensing a dangerous subject. “What do you mean?”

“There’s only one way to get of the city. And that’s through the main gates… which the Steins have covered.” The Coyote’s voice was almost apologetic. Kane became increasingly distressed.

“So how do you expect us to get through?”

The Coyote shrugged as he ran. “Run and gun and hope for the best.”

Inside, Kane felt anger bubble up. Was this his plan? “You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious. Dead, stinking serious.”

“You’ve done this before? The same way? I don’t believe you.” In Kane’s mind, he was beginning to realize something.

“Actually… this is a first.”

Kane immediately stopped jogging. He was incredulous and angry at the same time.

The Coyote stopped and turned around, holding his hands up. “C’mon… there’s always a first and a last to every venture.”

Kane shook his head slowly. “And you’re risking both of our lives, doing something that you’ve never done before?! What the h-”

“Look. I got it all planned. Did for months… we just gotta execute.” The Coyote was getting defensive, and Kane noticed him slowly pulling out a Bowie knife in case a fight occurred.

Kane shot back a response loudly. “Do you think it’s that simple? That we can just waltz through a huge barricade with a million Steins pointing guns at us? With huge towers and people sitting down with sniper rifles, aiming their sights at our heads?”

The Coyote shook his knife at Kane. “You didn’t seem so adverse to this until now. I’ve been doing just find handling this situation, you just gotta trust me. Besides, - ”

“Besides what?”

“-we’re in this together now. In this to win this. I can’t quit now, and neither can you.” The Coyote slipped the knife back into his pocket. “We gotta trust each other.” His face was grave, and Kane realized it was the truth. He had gotten himself into this mess with the first letter he had sent out for a guide to help him escape the Stein Empire, and had further gotten himself entangled when he had opened the door to a buzzer ringing six times. Now Kane was a fugitive, and so was the Coyote.

“One question, though, before we start moving again – what’s your name? I’m not going to be putting my life in the hands of someone I don’t know.”

“Call me the Coyote,” the Coyote said. Great. The Coyote’s own pseudonym matched up with the mental title that Kane had already assigned him with.

“No. Your real name.”

The Coyote hesitated. “Alex Fransor.” He removed his hood, revealing a scarred face with shaggy hair, a face that Kane recognized.

“You were… you were on Most Wanted a week back, for killing two Steins.” Things were making a lot of sense, why the Coyote was willing to take huge risks as a guide to get Kane out of the city and out of the Stein’s reach. He had nothing to lose; he would be captured and killed anyway.

“It’sa long story, one I ain’t repeating.”

Kane narrowed his eyes. “Is that why a bunch of Steins were already at my apartment when you arrived?”

“They’ve been tracking me, let’s say that.” The Coyote put his hood over his head again, turning away. “Let’s get moving. We can’t stay on the side of the road for too long without attracting attention.” Fransor’s voice was strained.

“I like how you’re taking advantage of your situation, trying to make some money as you’re trying to scramble away at the same time.” Kane had a grudging respect for the Coyote, or Fransor, or whatever he decided to call him, but the sharp dislike he’d first experienced with him came back, more pronounced than ever before.

“Or maybe I’m selfless, trying to help someone else too while I’m leaving this place. You’ll never know, and we gotta get moving anyway.” Fransor started to jog away, and Kane had no choice but to follow.

They silently jogged for a long distance, before Fransor decided to stop. They were in a good neighborhood with fairly large townhouses. A Lexus was parked on a driveway.

“You thinking what I’m thinkin’?” The Coyote asked Kane without looking at him.

“Do you know how to hotwire cars?” Kane asked
.
Fransor nodded. “It’ll be quick.”

With his Bowie, the Coyote fiddled with the window, coaxing it to wedge open without setting off the alarm. Kane stood by, waiting, watching out to see if anyone noted suspicious activity. People walked by but no one seemed to notice or care. Within a minute, Fransor got it open. Kane saw him climb in, and start using his knife to remove a bunch of stuff around the steering wheel. It took him about four minutes before the car roared to life.

“Get in!” Fransor instructed Kane. Fransor had already unlocked the doors, so Kane climbed inside the luxury vehicle. “Coupe,” Fransor said. “I like it.”

He drove the Lexus off the driveway and began to drive away.

Suddenly, the door of the house opened and a lady appeared, running outside. “God! What are you doing! That’s not your car!”

Fransor heartily shouted back out the window, “And you think we don’t know that?!” He pushed the gas pedal down, and they shot away.

Kane smirked. “You like fancy getaways.”

“It’s my specialty. But then the police will usually soon be on my trail.”

Out of the rearview mirror, Kane saw the lady pull out a cellphone and call someone, presumably the police. From here on out it would be a nightmare fighting to get out of the city.

“Where are we going?” Kane asked the Coyote as the Lexus took a right turn.

“To the main gate. Where else can we go?”

Kane thought. “You say main gate, as if there’s some kind of secondary gate or something…”

Fransor shook his head. “The secondary gates are only if the Stein military needs to get out of the city themselves, fast. They’re situated in military outposts on the edge of the city. We’d never get within two hundred yards of it.”

“It seems like the main gate would less likely.”

“No… the main gate has civilian use, too. The rich businessmen and the head honchos drive out through the main gates. If we can just get close to it – I know we’d make it. Especially with the Lexus.”

“What does a Lexus have to do with anything?” Kane asked, frowning.

“Makes us look like the honchos and the rich men,” the Coyote explained. He swerved around some traffic and then slowed to the speed limit. He then stopped beside a parked car, an old Volvo with a weathered license plate.

“Don’t tell me we’re stealing another vehicle,” Kane said.

The Coyote shook his head. “I’m switching the license plates.” He got out of the car and quickly did his thing. As he got back in, he explained. “The license plate on that 1972-”

“You’ve memorized the Volvo car models?”

The Coyote continued, nodding, “The 1972 Volvo’s license plate was made when inputting the code into the system database only showed the owner of the car’s name, not the actual model. So, if a police car skims by and sees our plate, he can’t tell if it’s the stolen car or not. He can only see the owner’s name, which won’t match up.”

Kane realized the logic. “Makes sense.”

“Criminals have to be smart.” They began to drive again, at a normal speed. A few police cars passed, maybe slowing down a little as they neared the Lexus, but then continued on. Kane knew the license plate cover wouldn’t last long, but at least it bought them time.

The city’s building began to get shorter and longer, then suddenly they altogether stopped popping up on the sides, and it was mainly urban trash fields from then on. Kane could make out a tall gate in the distance.

At the same time, only luxury cars were on the roads, now. There were limos and Mercedes-Benzes and Bentleys and Cadillacs, and Kane even saw a Ferrari. Chauffeurs impatiently tapped the steering wheels, and wealthy men barely seen through the heavy tint sorted papers and checked their Rolex watches every few seconds.

“Most are going to the airport, which is a few miles out of the city,” the Coyote explained. “We aren’t, we’re taking the long trip through the countyside.”

“Will he have enough gas, once we’re out of the city?” Kane asked. The tank level reader wavered at only a quarter tank of gas.

“Maybe we’ll stop at the airport gas station.”

They kept driving, slowing down now that traffic built up.

“Uh-oh,” the Coyote whispered. “Look right there.” Kane looked; a police car was stopping the vehicles, doing a quick check, showing the drivers two Wanted photos in case they saw them. “They got us in a trap.”

“But we have to keep going, right?” Kane asked, trying to spur some bravery into himself.

“Right. There’s nothin’ we can do but get ready to gun the gas once we get to the checkpoint.” Fransor was solemn. The line progressed; they neared the checkpoint.

“Well, this is torture,” Kane remarked. His heart rate was rising despite attempts to keep it controlled. He could see the Stein officer’s face with increasing clarity; he now was certain that the pictures showed Fransor’s and his face. The odds were stacked against them, and there was a meancing wall that block anyone from trying to leave off-road. Worse, the checkpoint was fairly far away from the actually stops at the border. “We’ll have to do something.”

“I haven’t got a plan.”

Soon they were right behind the checkpoint. The car in front rolled away, and it was their turn. The Coyote drove up slowly and pulled down the window on the passenger side, revealing Kane. The Stein leaned into the window and briefed them.

“Okay, we’re looking for some fugitives, one named Alex Fransor and the other one Kane Saems. And maybe a stolen Lexus,too. You wouldn’t happen to…” The officer stopped in his drilling and actually studied them. “Holy massacre, they’re you–”

The Coyote acted fast, as usual. He lunged across Kane (who instinctively scooted back) and held his Bowie tight against the officer’s neck. The frightened man’s eyes bulged.

“What–”

“Shut up,” Fransor growled harshly. “Shut up and stay quiet. You’re my hostage, and we’re going to play this safe. Kane, take the wheel.”

Kane nodded, unstrapping and sliding over to the driver’s seat. He started off at a slow pace, allowing the Steinie whose upper half was in the the Lexus to waddle sideways as Fransor held the knife to his neck. It was drawing attention, but by this point most people realized that this was a serious matter. Kane nodded loudly and revved the engine, causing the nearest cars to pull over. He drove through slowly. Alarms went off all around like the world was about to end.

“You’re doing fine,” the Coyote said. He turned back to the man. “Just stay quiet and you’ll be fine.”

Loudspeakers blared: “STOP THE VEHICLE AND SLOWLY GET OUT IN A SURRENDER. RELEASE THE HOSTAGES. BRUTAL FORCE MAY BE USED IF YOU DO NOT COOPERATE.”

With a sudden rebellious streak, Kane rolled down the window and leaned his head out. “Brutal force may be used on your little man if you don’t cooperate!”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK WE CARE ABOUT ONE OF OUR OFFICERS? THERE IS THE GREATER GOOD.”

Sounds cheesy, Kane thought, but like something the Steins would say. He quickly stuck his head back in and got the window up before anyone sniped him. Quickly, police cars began to surround them in a circle, officers getting out and aiming shotguns at them. “You can’t win!” one man roared. “Let go our man and maybe we’ll reduce the criminal charges!”

Kane looked pleadingly at the Coyote. “What do we do now?”

Fransor’s eyes narrowed. “Plan B. I need free hands.” He grabbed the officer’s radio clipped onto his chest pocket, slit his throat, and let him drop out of the window.

“Well, we let him go for you!” Fransor cried, rolling up the window. The Steins looked shocked, but years of training made them keep themselves cool. “Okay. We pretend like there’s a bomb rigged on the Lexus.”

“You think that’ll work?” Kane was incredulous at how risky it was.

“If it doesn’t, we’re dead.”

The radio spoke cautiously to the two men. “Get out of the car slowly. Put you hand on your head and leave the weapons on the ground. We don’t want any more people to get hurt. Please cooperate; it’s for the greater good.”

“Won’t they please stop using that ridiculous phrase,” Fransor pleaded to no one. He picked up the radio. “I want you to listen.”

“Please g–”

“No! We’ve got a bomb on this vehicle. One with a pretty good radius. I reckon we could wipe out a good bit of Steins with it. For the greater good, eh?”

There was hesitation amongst the Steins. They were contemplating whether or not to back away or maybe trying to decide whether or not Fransor was bluffing. They decided to move back.

“Okay,” the Coyote hissed into the radio. “Here’s how it’s gonna work. For the greater good of your police force, we’re going to be let through across the border. That’s it. You don’t have to give us special treatment afterwards. Afterwards you can chase us all you want. Chances are we won’t even make it to the next city. Maybe you’ll catch before the turn-off to the airport. We won’t even blow the bomb. C’mon. Let’s do this for the greater good.” There was silence on the radio, then anger.

“If you think in–”

“For the greater good. Don’t take chances. Just past the border.”

Silence again.

“Okay.”

The sea of Stein police cars parted; leaving a clear path to the border. Kane drove towards it, slowly increasing speed to a comfortable velocity. They passed it; a wonderful but short-lived feeling sprouted through Kane’s brain: they completed the first step to escaping. He drove quickly.

Suddenly a loud boom erupted from behind them, a rush of sound reached them that resembled the noise when something large and sleek moves quickly through the air, and the Lexus was thrown sideways by an explosion from a rocket launcher.

The radio crackled stiffly with laughter. “You did say just past the border, right?”

Kane knew he should have expected it, but it still freaked the living daylight out of him when the explosion sent the Lexus careening of the road, rolling several times before it finally came to a rest. For a second the world billowed in a white smoke; everything then cleared and Kane saw what a wreck they were in.

“Get out!” cried the Coyote. “Hurry!”

Through the blurry slosh his mind had been reduced to, Kane managed to unstrap and stumble out of the car. He attempted to run, but fell to the ground as if drunken. He groaned.

A Stein walked up to him and leaned down face to face. “Gotcha.”

“Never!” Kane spat, he lunged blindly – the trained officer caught his arm.

“Oh, so you want to resist? There’s about twenty of us right here with guns, and you got the nerve?” He stood; kicked Kane in the stomach. A stab of pain forced Kane to grab his abdomen. The officer kicked him in the nose; Kane’s head snapped back and blood immediately sprayed out of his nostrils – Kane’s hands flew up to his nose. With his stomach unprotected again, the officer kicked him there again too.

Through a haze of pain, Kane saw more police officers come; they all had satisfied expressions.

“They were lying about the bomb, you know,” one said, studying the writhing man on the ground.

“Figures. Look where it got them.”

“Fransor’s already under custody, he sliced one of our men pretty badly but then we got him restrained.”

The officer didn’t look surprised. He looked down at Kane, slightly nodding his head. “This one’s no problem. His name should be Seems Lame.”

Lame? The word echoed in Kane’s mind. This was it; the end. He’d lost and now would either die or stay in a filthy cell for the rest of his life. And why? All this happened because he trusted a stranger and, now he knew, a fugitive. He was stupid to think he could escape. He was so foolish.

Steins surrounded Kane, gripping him tightly – it was then when Kane passed out.


He descended into a dream that was not a dream at all. They were memories. He shuddered as he swirled back to when he was six – naïve, free. He was in his home, a small little five-room house in Altor Vista, a good city. It was in the dining room, and he was eating his dinner, steak and corn.

It is odd how words merely pass through a young child’s mind without being pondered on deeply. The television was on, a news reporter talking about the war. The video was black and white, fuzzy, but of course Kane, a child, did not mind it. He wasn’t even interested in the news, even though news was all that seemed to be on the tube nowadays. Cartoons only came Sunday mornings.

His mother and father were more interested in the news. Their pale faces grew paler as they saw a diagram showing the warfront, moving closer to Altor Vista as it shifted with time. The green and black (though the green was represented merely with a dark gray) insignia of the Steinorist Army was on one side, the Lowly Power’s white with black stripes’s flag was on the other side. Kane easily saw that the Lowly Power’s had only a small area left – they would soon be overrun. But it was a game, in his mind, and the only fear he felt was one that was implied onto him by his parents.

Mother spoke softly, scared. “They are coming closer – look.”

Father had hard eyes, but even they were crinkled with the solemn revelation. “Ann, we must stay calm. I want you to take the train with our son to the Hyle countryland as soon as we can make arrangements. Maybe this weekend.” Kane noticed how they were talking as if he wasn’t there, but it was common of adults to talk like this.

“But Vernon–!”

“I want Kane safe. I’ll send you money over the Union. Stay with your sister there until I can come.”

“Maybe the powers can repel the Steins, maybe–”

Father slammed his fist hard on the table, the dishes rattling. Anger stood in his eyes. “I will not take chances with this family!”

That memory began to ebb away. Kane knew the weekend would never come. Struggling to throw himself out of the past, he writhed, invisible bonds chaining him to the reality of the dream. It was a nightmare – all of it. But then, a dim light shone in the distance, spurring Kane to stop fighting and become still. It grew near, and an overwhelming stench became pungently strong, and Kane began to see the invisible chains were not imaginary at all, they were real, cold metal…


His eyes flew wide open, and instantly saw his surroundings. There were prisoners around him in a small room, all chained to one another. A Stein guard stood on the far side of the room with a menacing gun. Only one light bulb illuminated the whole place.

The room juddered as if it were moving, and Kane realized they were in a large trailer being carried by a truck. “Oh God,” Kane muttered under his breath. He studied each face in the trailer, seeing if he could recognize them. Fransor. He was in the far corner on the other side – there was no way he could talk to him without alerting the attention of the guard. Their eyes met and exchanged a single message: they were done for.

The trailer stopped, and larger doors to Kane’s right swung open, blinding him with sunlight… A large, gloomy concrete building stood in the distance, two towers stretching in the sky, creating a U- shaped structure.

A silhouetted Stein stood outside. “One by one, out! You guys are going to have a fun time in prison.”

They were promptly lined up outside the trailer truck and counted. The grounds looked quite intimidating, with sniper towers appearing often and everywhere and Stein guards marching everywhere incessantly too.

Now his eyes adjusted, Kane saw the Stein’s business suit and purple tie, clean-shaved skin and barbered hair. He had seen the good sides of life. The Stein wasted no time in introducing himself. “Hello. This is Pendleton Correctional/Interrogation Prison. We call it PCIP down here. I’m the secondary warden, Mr. Forstock.” His voice grew hard. “I hope I won’t be seeing any of you privately. Okay! So basically we keep a low profile here, and you’ll be fine. Top-notch security. You will be sharing cells with three other convicts, unless you have been assigned to isolation.”

He pointed at the towers towering behind him. “There are two sides of PCIP. There’s PCP and PIP, a tower for each. You guys are going to PIP. Interrogations. Usually prisoners at PIP only get one or two sessions of interrogation, then move to PCP or are transferred to Weinstar. You don’t want to go to Weinstar. That’s the big boy land.”

Kane didn’t like Mr. Forstock or how he spoke as if they were children. He suspected the man had a darker persona under the suit and tie that outwardly showed a happy person.

Mr. Forstock seemed done with his short briefing and looked to the right at a red-haired, short man. “Captain Bell, please take it from here and show the men to their quarters.”

“Yes, sir.” Bell looked up at the convicts, studying them. Kane put on a tough expression as he was stared down. “You guys don’t look too troublesome. Perhaps you’ll have a nice time at PCIP. Come on out, now, follow us.”

An escort of guards led them into the PIP tower looming before them, the reinforced steel doors clanging shut behind them. Those doors wouldn’t open anytime soon.

They passed through several stone hallways, climbing up steps and steps, until they were led down a long corridor numbered #45. “Remember that number, 45,” Bell said seriously, turning around to face them while walking backwards. “That is your home number, your sole place of belonging for your days at PIP.” He stopped. “Separate into groups of four! Two groups will have three, that’s alright.”

Kane immediately shoved through the people to reach Fransor. He was almost there, but then his arm was suddenly gripped in an iron-like hold. Kane looked up. It was Bell.

“I’ve been… warned about you two men. Especially your friend over there, Fransor. He was on Stein’s Most Wanted a while back. He’s been assigned for isolation, in a different corridor. Now run along and make new friends.” Bell’s bright eyes dared Kane to retaliate. Some prisoners and guards watched, spectating at the stand-off.

“I’ll be fine,” Fransor said to Kane. He was being held by two guards.

“That’s right, hear the guy,” Bell hissed. “Now go.”

Kane’s hand was released, and he stumbled back until he backed off to the other side of the hall and could see Bell no more.

A burly prisoner went up to him. “What’re you two? Gay buddies?”

“Shut up,” Kane muttered back. He wasn’t in the mood to be ridiculed. He glanced at the man; the fellow prisoner had a kinder appearance that didn’t match his words.

“Whatever,” the guy replied. “Listen up, we got two in our cluster and need a third. You wanna join in?”

Kane looked around at the already formed alliances of men. “Looks like I have no choice,” he answered. He followed the man.

Bell shouted over the mass of prisoners: “Now pick a cell and get inside!”

The burly prisoner met up with a wiry man who smelled like marijuana and got into a cell, closing the door right behind Kane. It automatically locked. Everything got quiet.

“So,” the wiry man grumbled. “I’d like to know you guys names and how you got here. Me? Pretty obvious. I’ve been taking so much of them drugs I couldn’t count how much joints I’ve smoked. They call me Smokey.” Smokey extended a hand, which Kane shook slowly.

The burly man spoke next. “I got into some fights in my neighborhood. My name’s John Guillermo. I’m Hispanic, but you couldn’t tell.” John shrugged. “What about you?” he asked, turning to Kane.

“My name is Kane Saems. Uh, I tried to escape the city and was caught. That other man was my coyote.”

John shook his head. “Man, that stinks. How far did you get?”

Kane kept it real. “Just outside the walls.”

Smokey laughed, hard, gripping his belly. “Shoot! You guys must be some real jokers. You think it’s some party?”

“What do you mean?” Kane asked. He sat down on a bed.

“Me and my buddies go out of the city each day – you know, to find some quiet place to smoke weed where they don’t got no cameras or anything.” He stopped for a moment, savoring memories. “Probably are doing it right now without me. Funny how only I got caught in that bust.”

Kane was shocked. “Every day?”

Smokey regarded Kane as if he was stupid. “Yeah. There’s some weak spots, always are. Which way did you go, or try to?”

“Through the main gates,” Kane said sheepishly. Smokey and John laughed now.

“Wouldn’t it make sense to try to avoid the main gates? The main one?” John asked.

“Well, my friend Fransor told me that all the secondary gates were around military bases.”

“Well, Kane,” Smokey said, “what makes you things you have to go through a gate?”

Kane hadn’t thought of that alternative. He’d imagined the wall as one large, eternal structure that was impenetrable except at the gates; not as an imperfect barrier with nooks and cracks one could squeeze through.

“So, you went through a hole in the wall?” Kane asked hesitantly.

“A tunnel.”

There were tunnels? Kane was beginning to really hate himself for following the Coyote’s plans. Now he was in a prison with no way out. And all that time they could have stuck out through a tunnel.

“Whatever,” Kane said dismissively, sounding miserable. “I’m going to sleep.”

He curled up on his bed and fell asleep, wondering how in the world he got himself into this mess.

The question was, now, how was he going to get out?