Public Enemy Zero

7

Mitchell went to open his mouth. He hyperventilated as he tried to think of what to say. The parking enforcement officer, a middle-aged stocky Hispanic woman, was typing something into her handheld computer.

“Excuse me!” Mitchell called out.

She looked up at him from the other car. It was a defensive expression she’d shown a thousand times to people who thought they could plead for a break.

She just looked at Mitchell and raised an eyebrow. No, “How can I help you?” or anything resembling courtesy.

“I’m being chased by two people. … I think they’re trying to kill me.” He made a conscious choice not to say ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend.

Mitchell looked over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if he was more frightened about seeing Rachel running toward him with murder in her eyes or Rick slowly plodding along with his bloody mess of a leg and bone poking through.

The officer walked to the driver’s side of Mitchell’s car and looked at him from across the hood.

She could see the terror in Mitchell’s eyes. There was a fleeting moment of humanity.

Mitchell tried to figure out how to explain what had just happened. But even he didn’t understand it.

The woman reached for her radio. Then her face lost all expression.

Oh fuck, thought Mitchell.

The woman’s lips pulled back as she bared her teeth.

Passenger side door still open, Mitchell leaped back in and slammed it shut. The officer jumped onto his hood and started slamming the radio into his windshield as she screamed.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he shouted.

He looked over at the driver’s side. He started to climb into it when he heard the windshield crack from the impact of the radio.

He looked back out and saw the radio break apart as it made a hole the size of a soda can in the glass. The parking enforcement officer reached a hand through the opening, scraping the skin off her knuckles, and grabbed Mitchell’s hair.

She started to yank it.

Mitchell whipped his head back. Her bloody fingers still held on to clumps of his hair.

He leaned back out of her reach. Red polished nails flew past his face.

Did he try to start the car and drive off with her on it? Could he even drive with her trying to rip his face off through the windshield?

He fumbled his keys from his pocket and shoved them into the ignition from the passenger side. He tried to pull the car from park to reverse so he could throw her free. Fuck. He forgot he needed to press on the brake pedal to do that.

Mitchell tried to reach under her arm as it swung through the hole like an angry snake looking for something to strike.

His left hand felt a pedal. He pushed it. The engine revved up. Damn it! He pushed the other pedal as his right hand tried to pull the shifter.

Crack!

Mitchell looked up as pieces of glass began to rain down him.

The parking officer was trying to squeeze her round body through the opening she’d just made larger.

Her right shoulder and head were coming through the glass.

Mitchell pulled himself back into the passenger side.

The stout woman tried pushing through as her left hand pounded on the outside of the windshield. It was a mess of cracking glass and bloody handprints. Her eyes kept staring at him, never looking away.

Crack!

The window blew apart and showered small pieces of broken safety glass everywhere. She placed a hand on the window frame and pulled her body toward Mitchell.

His right hand found the door handle and pulled on it. Mitchell fell out of the car and to the ground.

The woman climbed all the way into the car. On impulse, he slammed the door shut and kicked it closed.

Still on all fours, he crawled backward over the grass to the sidewalk.

The woman slammed her face against the passenger window and let out a scream. Bloodshot eyes tore into him. She began beating on the window with bloody fists as she pounded her head into the glass.

Her face was crisscrossed with lacerations. More blood was visible than skin.

Mitchell knew he couldn’t stay there. He was certain she was either going to break through the glass or just open the goddamned door when she calmed down for a second.

Did parking officers carry guns, he wondered?

He looked to his left and then to his right. Somewhere out there Rachel and Rick were still trying to hunt for him.

The woman in his car started kicking at the window.

Fearful of getting cornered by Rachel, Rick or the parking officer, Mitchell got to his feet and started running toward a more populated part of town. Maybe someone could tell him why people were acting so crazy.

He ran down the street and crossed several intersections without looking. He ran up another street to put him out of the line of sight of the parking woman. As he bolted through another intersection, a car honked at him.

That normal human reaction made him feel slightly better.

When he got to a safe place, he could call the police and try to find out what was going on. How come four out of the last seven people he talked to in the last 24 hours tried to kill him? He wasn’t a spy. He didn’t have any secrets. What the fuck?

A mile away from his car he started to slow down his pace. He needed a place to think and sort things out before he called the police. He had no idea what to tell them.

Every time he tried to think about what happened, he felt disconnected, like he was watching someone else’s bad dream. Rachel’s face was something out of a nightmare. Nothing made sense. He did the only thing he could — keep moving forward.

Up ahead he saw the mall where he would sometimes go hang out while Rachel was at work. He picked up his pace and hurried there. He knew he’d feel safer in someplace public, somewhere people could help him if Rachel, Rick or the parking woman came after him.

Mitchell jogged past the half-full parking lot and went through the sliding glass doors. Safety in numbers, he thought.