The Chase

“Oi. Stop! Wait!” 

The rain flung itself from the sky, running in rapids along the slick glossy cobbles. Not ideal fleeing conditions, but beggars can’t be choosers. 

Footsteps rung out in an echo and response, rhythmically beating out the cat and mouse chase.  

A long dark wiry woman with quick eyes scanned the streets as her legs carried her automatically this way and that. Ducking and diving in this rat's nest came easily now.  Survival was trickier, false moves hid in the shadows waiting to ensnare the unaware. 

Bingo. Up ahead respite presented itself in the form of a big old fashioned doorway. It’s ornate moulding and showy brass fittings proclaimed a past that jarred with its current state of peeling paint and dubious smells. She fingered through her pockets, tracing the edges of various ID badges. Who would she be today? 

“Right. I told you. Stop!” The round, red faced policeman sputtered and wheezed, his expression neither warm nor forgiving. 

Here goes, she thought, in half reckless entreaty and half prayer to some unknown, barely perceptible deity. 

“Oh, goodness!” She exclaimed in an affected voice that bore very little resemblance to her own. Tone forcibly light. “You’re a police officer! Oh well isn’t this silly?” She rambled on, mimicking the demeanour of the privileged minority who had nothing to fear from the authorities. Why should you fear the institutions you owned? 

“I thought you were trying to rob me! It is really so reassuring to see you. Constable…?” She lifted her voice in polite expectation, outwardly beaming, inwardly calculating and recalculating her position. 

“ID miss” The policeman repeated, his grey whiskery face betraying no sympathy. His voice threaded with a slight waver only discernible to those whose survival depended on noticing details.  

With a swift, confident motion she pulled out her favourite ID. She couldn’t use it too often. The police do talk you know. But it really was delicious to see the sudden shift when they realised “who” they were speaking to. 

“Ah. Oh. I didn’t realise Miss. Can I escort you out of this part of town?” The policeman grovelled, a hint of fear passing behind his eyes. “I’m sure your family would like to know you are safe.” 

Angling for a quick getaway, she manoeuvred around the portly officer, who was now wringing his hands.  

“Oh no. I’ll be on my way. Must dash!”

She almost felt guilty. Almost. But was jolted by the aching hunger in her belly. 

Looking back, a perverse boldness sprang from her unbidden and she ventured “And when I do tell my family of your gallant service, whom shall I commend?" 

The policeman hesitated, opened his mouth then promptly closed it again, giving a very good impression of a floundering fish.

“Smith, Miss." 

Everyone was hiding. 

And then she was gone, fleet of foot, melting into the shadows of the neighbourhood’s faded former glory.