#3: Aubrey and Jude
Aubrey was on the verge of making a remark about that, this stranger’s playing at innocence and what suspect reasons he could have for ruminating romantic about stealing a camping lantern that couldn’t cost more than a meal or two eaten out. Not judgemental of Jude’s unknown means, just curious about the presentation of that false-halo smile. On the verge of asking, or - more likely - making a sarcastic quip, when that drumbeat of footsteps started to prick at his ears.
It took a few seconds to place it, locate a stark comparison in the catalogue of life-experience that might match up to the frenetic, feverish pounding of soles slapping over pavement in a way that meant running rather than marching, and in numbers that meant swarm. Not an army, but a mob. Aubrey’s hand tightened around the creaking handle of the basket and then his gaze followed Jude’s to the flicker-flashing of lights just on the edge of the horizon, rounding the edges of town and coming towards. Running.
“Yes,” he murmured, voice thick and scratchy in his throat as he swallowed against the taste of metal. It was them, them, the ones he’d taken off from, left behind in New York, they were here and they knew he was here and they wanted - blood. His. Him. “Ye-es, running, now.” Turning in time with Jude’s retreat and scrabbling a little with the soles of his shoes against the pavement, stupidly expensive loafers that had a hard time finding much purchase so that he lurched a little even as he reached out to grasp at the angle of Jude’s elbow and pull him along. Quicker, quicker, very quickly.
A glance over his shoulder told him that they were fast, too fast, faster than the two men could outrun as the distance between them and the front of that mob had closed by nearly half. Shit, shit. Quicker. The punch in Aubrey’s cup had sloshed down the front of his jacket and jeans and the plastic crunched under the soles of one shoe as he dropped it to the sidewalk and his right leg went out from under him on the slide of slick plastic. He went down, to knee and elbow, basket flying out in front, curses ripped forth from his mouth like a riptide.