The Running Man

MINUS 036 AND COUNTING

When she stopped the car at the entrance of the parking lot, the reaction was quick and immediate. “KEEP MOVING,” the bullhorn prodded. “THE AIRPORT POLICE ARE INSIDE. AS SPECIFIED.”

Richards raised his own bullhorn for the first time. “TEN MINUTES,” he said. “I HAVE TO THINK.”

Silence again.

“Don’t you realize you’re pushing them to do it?” she asked him in a strange, controlled voice.

He uttered a weird, squeezed giggle that sounded like steam under high pressure escaping from a teapot. “They know I’m getting set to screw them. They don’t know how.”

“You can’t,” she said. “Don’t you see that yet?”

“Maybe I can,” he said.