Jump:

I practically jump out of my skin, my heart leaps in my throat, and I stand so fast my chair topples over. This is what my subconscious was trying to tell me, Kit was sending a low blow. Taylor’s head immediately turns to me, his eyes like targeting systems, and I wonder if I’ve gone as white as I feel as his eyes widen when they lock in on me. The door to the stairs behind me was locked and boarded from the inside by Hunter’s people, but that didn’t matter. Hunter’s gaze flickers from me to Taylor and back to me.
Taylor opens his mouth to say something, and I know just hearing his voice could bring me to my knees, at the same time Hunter stands pulling out a gun. It’s all in slow motion, I have to stop Taylor from uttering a single syllable, so what if Hunter shoots me. Now I know he’s not allowed to shoot to kill and the possibly kill shots are the only ones that have any effect on me. Reacting on instinct, the best choice for situations like this, I drop to the floor and shoot my pinky claw, like a porcupine is thought to do (they can’t though). Hunter’s shot echoes where my chest used to be, everyone in the bar starts getting down, and some scream.
I crouch step a few paces back as Hunter tries to re-aiming, Taylor’s trying to pull my claw out of his shoulder. Then I jump and barrel through the stairwell door, in a flash I’m up and out of the wood debris and am bounding up the stairs. Bursting into the second floor, I run through the rooms of beds and crash through a window and fly through the window of the building across the alley. The glimpse I got of outside as I flew by shows helicopter, cars, and soldiers for Kit or Hunter, I’m not sure which.
Stumbling to keep running, I windmill my arms as I run till I’ve re-caught my balance. The debate is between out running the world’s largest non-country army or hiding from the world’s largest non-country army. Fun. I crash into another building and get worried; the next building I would have to jump to is across a 100by100 foot park … not including the two twenty foot roads. Slamming on the brakes, I stop right in front of the window, my breath fogs a circle. Eyes flash back and forth while my brain computes, trying to give me an answer. Then one comes. Calm returns, I stop shaking.
Opening the window, I crouch on the ledge, waiting. Coming down the semi-busy street is a ‘tarty, late to the party’ soldier car. Instinct is behind the wheel, and driving fast. I jump. Aiming right for the sunroof, I crash into the car. They swerve a bit but then I’m driving, two unconscious bodies slumped on the passenger’s seat and middle seat. This was a containment vehicle. A large suburban with the middle row barred like the back of a police car. Stopping several blocks away, I throw the two unconscious bodies into a dumpster, then get back in the car. After driving two hours north, I stop at a cliff view scene of the Atlantic, trying to get my barring’s and decide my next move.