“So, we have thirty minutes, then?” “Oh, no, honey.” She coiled up the microphone cable. “We need to move now. It takes time to set up a news feed from a remote. How far away is this apartment we’re going to?” “Like a mile or so.” “Yeah, we need to get rolling asap, sugar. Give me the address.” She turned to her crew and shouted. “Pack up, everybody! I want two cameras for a live shot at the new location! We’re on again in thirty!” Findlay stood, still wet from the water bombs. “Do I have time to get cleaned up?” She looked him over, frowning. “I don’t think it’s gonna do much. You pasty white boys tend to wash out under the camera lights.” * * * * * Across campus, my escape had slowed from a run to a jog. I hadn’t seen anybody following me. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t be on me soon, though. I finally allowed myself to walk.
