THE CCTV CAMERA FITTED ON THE CEILING rotated in the corridor of the Stuyvesant Hall. Joe and Reeves were hiding close-by. They scrutinized the inside of the guard-house, on the same floor — there were three guards and a few local PD uni-cops inside. The women were looking at the security monitors. Others were outside the guard-house in idle chat, with their smokes and coffees.

Reeves hinted, looking over his shoulder at Joe...

"The bitches are watching the monitors, and there is no way we can outrun them all — well I can — but I am more worried about your fat-ass"

Joe got the picture of what Reeves had just disclosed — and now, he was getting both nervous and the sense of regret for separating from the herd of the Wesleyan boys, and coming through this far — he was unwieldy when he noticed that those PD cops were 'lean-bitches' — and there was no way in hell that his 'fat-ass' can outrun them to the wall outside the building...

"What's the plan now?" the red-haired boy anxiously acknowledged.

*

The uniforms in the guardhouse were rewinding and replaying the footage, where, one of the female e-SWAT snipers who was running — and she slipped and fell off the roof minutes ago. "Oh my god, look at that — the poor girl!" one of them expressed.

The voice of Officer Harriet then came aloud on the radio...

"GUARDHOUSE OVER — THE TWO FREAKS ARE HEADING YOUR WAY — STAY ALERT! WE ARE SENDING BACKUP NOW, OVER!"

*

Reeves answered Joe...

"Okay, here is how it goes — listen, I will create a diversion, and most of them will come after me — Joe, once you see that, you have to outrun anyone who remains behind. Once you get to the wall, I will buy you more time and you don't wait for me — and, you should start scaling over it, and remember, don't wait for me — I will soon join you by then, okay?"

Joe was now apprehensive and got scared — grabbed Reeve's forearm. He wanted to cohere...

"Hey Reeves, it looks risky — let me come with you."

It choler Reeves, and he growled back...

"No! Stick to the plan, Joe — or else, we both will not make it out from here — I am serious!"

Without any forewarning — Reeves got up and dashed towards a row of old abandoned classrooms. Joe looked edgy after being left alone...

The female cops and guards were still engrossed with the fallen e-SWAT sniper incident — they were not paying attention to another monitor with Reeves, visible in the screen...

"Oh the poor thing, I hope she is well. The ambulance should be here by now."

Someone else retorted negatively...

"She fell off four stories down — I think maybe she is dead now for a fucking fact."

Outside, Reeves stopped and looked puzzled — and he started to wave at the CCTV camera to get the guardhouse's attention — he was muttering to himself...

"What is wrong, are you all blind? What are you all watching there — soap opera?"

Reeves found a half-used paint container on the ground nearby.

The guards and cops were all still gripped with accident event on the monitor in the guardhouse...

"There — the hospital's EMT is here."

The paint canister came crashing into the windowpane glass of the guardhouse, at that precise moment — they all shrieked in scared shock, and a few women dived on the floor. The cops drew their guns out when they spotted Reeves, dashing across towards the abandoned rundown classrooms in the old wing...

Joe anticipated the open window of opportunity — with all the four lean uniforms, were now out hounding after Reeves. He stood up — and scrambled pass the guardhouse. Two over-sized security guards, who had remained in the guardhouse, saw him dash by — one of them was 'pepper-spray' Farah, who hollered at the running red-headed Intersexual...

"It is the fat boy!"

The two obese security guards then pursued after him.

Nearby, Reeves outpaced his chasing shadows too, by his slippery facile runs in and out of the broken down classrooms, the uniformed cops were frustrated — by his cunning agility in dodging them.

*

In Columbus, Reeve's mother in the coma ward, on her bed — her fingers twitched before her body shook with slight spasm.

Laura Jensen was having a first-string of nightmares.