Foster knew his survival depended on one thing, getting out
of the back alley run he was stuck in. He sub-vocalized for a route back to safe
territory and after a split second a green neon line drew an escape route. He
followed the directions without question. The line directed him to the fire
escape ladder that led up to a third floor balcony. He thumbed one of the
buttons on his wrist control and his board elongated, straps shot out of the
base and held the board halves to his feet. He scrambled on top of a trash bin
and the wheels of his board flipped up to the top side so he could climb the
ladder without getting them stuck.
The guards stopped and clambered over each other to be the
first up the ladder after Foster. When he got the third floor balcony he
unzipped a small pouch on the inside of his jacket sleeve and dropped a press
button one inch wide by half inch tall by half inch thick explosive. It bounced
off the ladder and fell into the open trash bin. The guards looked down in
confusion and the explosive went off rocking the trash bin into the ladder
knocking two of the guards off the ladder and one the rest into the alley.
Foster checked to see where the green line was leading him. He
followed the balcony around the corner of the building and when he reached the
end of the balcony the line went straight down. He looked over the edge and saw
the road the line was leading him too. He was technically in the higher class
slums, the hill he was looking down on was a road that led to the black market
district. Hundreds upon hundreds of illegal businesses that no one cared about
because the black market economy got more real business done for more of the population
than the above ground consumer economy did. The hill was massive. Gravity alone
would give him more speed on his board than his the on board engine could ever
pump out. The only thing that worried him was what he would need to do to
control that speed. Certain death behind him and very possible death below him.
He considered his options for the eternity between two heartbeats and in the
silence between songs, he jumped.
He thumbed the board control and it had returned to skating form
by the time he hit the hill. He crouched low and focused on his balance and
prayed that no people or cars came down the cross streets. The neon of the
black market shops blurred by him in a multi colored light speed blur of electricity
that he had only ever seen before on drugs. The green line was razor straight
as he continued to pick up speed. He thumbed a control on his glove and checked
the rear facing cameras on his bag. He saw that three of the guards had made the
leap and were crouched into the suicide run maybe a hundred feet behind him.
The hill dove under an overpass and in the blink of an eye
he was out of the black market district. The city opened up into an area that
had never really recovered after the last of the great quakes. Foster saw that
he was coming to a massive bridge that had fallen away in the middle. He also
knew that there was no amount of speed he could have reached that would get him
over the gap the green line had been leading him too. The guards cleared the
black market district. Foster followed the green line.
He hit the bridge and it curved up a little arcing over the
now dry river bed. He said a prayer to the Gods of Techno and pressed the
button to expel the tiny accelerant canister to give him the last little bit of
speed from the board. A split second later he was skating on thin air.
He pressed a button on his glove and front strap of his
board let go of his foot and the back part of the board shot the front half
like a grappling hook at the far side of the bridge. The board hit hard the
wheels opened up and drilled into the road hard. The back part of the board
quickly reeled Foster toward the other side as he began to lose altitude.
