The survivor

Ninety-Four

Striker saw Shen Sun cut north through the crowd with both Courtney and Raine as his hostages. One moment they were there, the next they were gone, swallowed up by the mob.

‘Courtney!’ he screamed.

He plunged forward, fought to race after them, but was knocked back by wave after wave of terrified, drunk party-goers. People screamed, cried out, grabbed on to him and begged him for help. He shoved past them all. Courtney was out there somewhere. He had to get to her.

She was everything.

He worked his way north, paralleling the coffee shops and convenience stores of the Drive. When he reached Turk’s Coffee Shop, he found Felicia squatting on her knees against the patio railing. Trying to get up.

She’d be trampled if she stayed there.

In one quick motion, he reached down, snagged her wrist and hauled her to her feet, out of the path of the frenzied mob. She teetered momentarily, but managed to stand.

‘You okay?’ he asked her.

She looked back vacantly, blood running down the left side of her chin. Then mumbled, ‘Go after him.’

Striker held her up on her feet, moved her to the safety of the coffee-shop entrance and got her to lean on the wall. With her safely out of the way, he then grabbed on to the drainpipe and climbed on top of the steel gate that separated the coffee-shop patio from the sidewalk. He scanned the mob.

It took ten seconds to find them.

Shen Sun was forcing the girls across the field, deeper into Grandview Park.

Striker jumped down. He told Felicia to stay put, then dove through the crowd. When he reached the other side of the Drive, he hopped onto the stage and raced across it. He leaped off the other side, entered the park, and spotted Shen Sun slamming shut the rear door of a white commercial van.

‘Shen Sun Soone!’ he bellowed.

He raised his pistol, took quick aim, and lost the gunman when a swarm of teenagers fled in front of him. Gun in hand, he raced through the park. He was barely halfway across when the van’s tail-lights flashed red. Threequarters across when the van pulled out of the parking spot and sped north on Cotton Drive.

‘Stop!’ he screamed. ‘STOP!’

Cotton Drive was a dead-end road. It connected with William Street and turned west, away from Britannia High School. Away from the Drive.

Striker angled his run across the park towards the school. He reached the common area just in time to see the white van speed west on William Street, turn north at the next block, and like a drowning person, slip just out of view.

Striker snagged his BlackBerry from its pouch and dialled 911 while running. When the operator answered, he blurted out his badge and rank and told them his daughter had just been kidnapped by Shen Sun Soone. He gave the location, a description of the van, and the last known direction of travel. With his lungs burning, he reached Odlum Street.

The van was nowhere to be seen.

He sprinted down to Napier.

Nothing.

Down to Parker.

Nothing.

Then all the way down to Venables Street, running till his legs ached and he felt he would collapse.

And still nothing.

Finally, he stopped. Let his hands fall to his sides. The only thing he felt was the heavy pulse of blood thudding through his temples. Gone. Courtney was gone. Taken by the madman just as God had taken Amanda.

He had failed her.