I took a long stride off the curb and onto the asphalt of the cross street, committing myself to beating the lead fire engine across the street. The white truck swept wide into its turn, committing itself to making the corner. The driver’s eyes widened as they met mine and his companion pulled feverishly at the air horn cord. The blast from the horn mounted in the middle of the grille hit me squarely in the left ear and I lengthened my stride as the heavy chrome bumper neared to within two feet of my leg.

I continued running in longer strides and looked back to see the black cop tentatively cross the street after the second truck had passed. He saw me looking back at him and he leveled his semi-automatic pistol at me. "Stop or I'll shoot!"

I ran on and measured a turn into the next alley behind a stone church. A shot rang out behind me, sending a chill down my spine.

"Stop now! Last warning!" He'd stopped running and stood still, gun aimed at my back. A few more feet and I'd be in the alley.

My legs seemed to move in slow motion and each stride seemed more difficult than the last. Like a child being chased in a nightmare, I couldn't run as fast as I wanted to. A few more steps, and 'Now'. I veered sharply to the right into the warm welcoming darkness of the alley.

I felt it before I heard it, a sharp pain in the heel of my left foot, like someone had hit it with a baseball bat. The echo of the shot followed. The next stride brought my left foot forward, which collapsed as soon as my weight shifted onto it. I stuck out my arms to break my fall as I crashed into a low railing and flipped over it, falling down a flight of dark stairs to the garbage covered landing of a basement door below street level.

My fall was broken by a foot deep pile of old newspapers, boxes, and other trash. The pain in my foot was blinding. I placed my right hand on my heel and felt an inch wide gap ripped into the rubber sole at the back of my sneaker. I could barely see my hand in front of my face in the shadows of the sunken stairwell, but I could feel that it was coated in warm, slick blood, a lot of blood. "Fuck, this hurts," I groaned, cradling my foot.

I heard the police car stop at the end of the alley and I moved farther into the dark inside corner of the landing, pulling newspapers and other garbage up around me. I curled up under my camouflage and gnashed my teeth in silence against the pain. Car doors closed and two sets of hard-soled footsteps started down the alley.

"You didn't shoot him, did you?" a voice asked above me.