SINCE EMMET LIVED IN FLORIDA CITY, HE HAD ONLY been able to come to Miami a couple of times to visit Stuke in the hospital. Now, running blindly into the city, Emmet realized he had no idea where he was. He only knew there were two directions he could go: forward, or back toward his pursuer. He should have run around the side of the building and gone in another entrance. Once there it would have made sense to find a police officer, a real one, and have them get Lieutenant Stukaczowski on the radio.

But Dr. Catalyst had been there, right there, dressed like a police officer and about to grab Emmet’s best friend. Calvin had saved Emmet more times than he could count, and in that moment, drawing the madman away from his friend was the only thing Emmet could think to do.

He knew Dr. Catalyst hated his dad and Dr. Geaux. He probably hated Uncle Yaha, and maybe even Calvin, despite him being his grandson. But if there was one person the crazed scientist really hated, it was Emmet himself.

The feeling was mutual.

Calvin had made it back into the hospital, Emmet was sure of it. Calvin was calm and respectful. He was the kind of kid a police officer was likely to believe if they said something was amiss. That would come in handy when he was trying to explain what was going on, while Dr. Catalyst chased Emmet.

Emmet scanned the streets as he ran, searching for his best escape route. The very heavily traveled South Dixie Highway bordered South Miami Hospital to the east and south. Running toward the highway was not an option. Emmet had no desire to escape Dr. Catalyst’s clutches only to be flattened by a semitruck. The hospital’s main entrance was on 73rd Street, so he ran along the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder and didn’t see Dr. Catalyst coming after him. Maybe he was taking a different route and trying to cut him off somehow. Or maybe he’d given up….

Emmet couldn’t take the chance. He kept running up the street until he came to the first intersection. With a fifty-fifty shot, he turned left. Now he was running along Sunset Drive. As he ran, Emmet clutched at his pockets, looking for his cell phone. He realized with a pang of dread that he’d left it at Calvin’s house amidst all the confusion. Emmet cursed his luck. Sometimes, when you’re attacked by a giant furry ball of rage and have to rush off with your dad in an ambulance, you forget stuff.

Emmet ran on, hoping to see someone walking by, or an open storefront, anyone to call the police. But it was too late in the night. He tried flagging down a couple of cars, but no one stopped.

It was no good being out in the open like this. Dr. Catalyst could be anywhere.

A police car came screaming up 73rd Street, screeching to a halt at the Sunset intersection. Its lights were flashing and the sirens were running. Emmet wanted to believe this was a real cop, but something told him he wasn’t that lucky. He tried to hide by cutting to his left, lunging off the sidewalk and into the shadows.

But he wasn’t quick enough. Dr. Catalyst must have spotted Emmet because the car turned onto the street, speeding after him. But the madman didn’t think like a real cop. This stretch of Sunset was a wide boulevard, separated in the center by a tree-lined median. He had to pull over to the far side of it to travel in the right direction. There was a grassy divider between them now, which gave Emmet a temporary bit of extra time.

He was really sprinting now. His legs burned. He came to another intersection and faked like he would keep running along Sunset, then quickly cut down the side street. The move caught his pursuer by surprise. He had to accelerate farther down the street, until there was a spot where he could cross the boulevard and zoom back in Emmet’s direction.

Emmet frantically searched his surroundings. He’d entered a residential street. He thought about trying to knock on one of the doors for help, but decided that yelling and screaming “Call 9-1-1!” might seem suspect if there was already a cop car chasing him. By the time he got a chance to explain, Dr. Catalyst would be right there, hand on Emmet’s shoulder, feeding the homeowner some line about delinquent kids. Emmet had to find a place to hide. A place to lose him.

Up ahead, Emmet spied the lighted parking lot of an elementary school. Schools were locked up at night, but they had playgrounds. This was his chance to get off the street. It would be dark and would take away the advantage of the car. Emmet could outrun Dr. Catalyst until Calvin brought the cops. Or called the Marines. Or however he chose to get Emmet out of this mess. Hopefully the Marines.

The cop car was turning onto the street just as Emmet reached the elementary school. He ran across the parking lot, where he discovered the tiny flaw in his plan. The street and parking lot were well lit. The playground was not. It was shrouded in shadows behind the school. Good for hiding, but not good for seeing where he was going.

The sound of the siren drew closer. Emmet sped around the corner of the building and sprinted for the farthest, darkest corner of the playground. The cruiser screeched to a halt in the parking lot. Then a car door slammed.

Dr. Catalyst was coming.

Come on, Calvin, Emmet thought. Where’s my backup?

He kept running, dodging the dim shapes of jungle gyms and merry-go-rounds, risking a look over his shoulder to try and catch sight of his pursuer. All Emmet saw was a bouncing flashlight beam coming from the direction of the parking lot. Dr. Catalyst would turn the corner any second. If Emmet didn’t find a place to hide, he’d be toast.

That’s when he ran face-first into a tetherball pole. It knocked Emmet flat on his back. The last thing he remembered was seeing stars. He couldn’t tell if they were the stars up in the night sky or the kind you see when you smack your head up against a piece of iron.

It didn’t really matter, because after that one final thought, Emmet didn’t see or remember anything at all.