There were no police officers in sight.
No security guards.
Only a handful of passengers too absorbed in their own worlds to pay attention to the predator-and-prey dance happening right in front of them.
Richard did not hesitate.
He kept walking.
Nearly there.
The exit sign glowed red in the distance, a stairway leading up to the city.
To safety.
But safety was not certain.
Not yet.
Behind him, the footsteps grew closer.
Faster.
Closer.
Richard tightened his grip on his cane.
He recognized this feeling. Being tracked. Being pursued. It was something he had not experienced in a long time, not since the war.
And yet, here he was.
His heart did not pound.
His breathing remained even.
He had known death before, and death had never appeared to him in the form of a cowardly pack of young men trying to prove something.
A sudden voice broke the silence.
“Hey, old man!”
Richard hesitated.
A mistake.
The instant he did, Kyle was on him.
A rough push from behind, not hard enough to send him down, but hard enough to force him forward.
Laughter followed.
Richard tightened his grip on the railing, his old knuckles whitening.
He did not turn around.
A second voice, one of Kyle’s friends, called out, “What’s the hurry, Grandpa? We just want to talk.”
Richard breathed slowly.
He was within a step of the top of the stairs.
Almost.
Kyle stepped in front of him now, blocking his path.
His smirk was gone, replaced by something colder, meaner.
“You don’t just walk away from us.”
Richard looked up at him.
His face was unreadable.
Calm.
Dangerous.