Run With Me

by Shorter, L. A.

  This goes on for about 10 minutes as she takes any and every turning she can. Eventually, the sound of sirens fades and she starts to slow down. I do the same, maintaining my distance, even though I know I'm a ghost, a shadow who follows her unseen.

  I keep tracing her movements as she continues up a long country road. Every time we come close to a town or settlement, she turns away, keeping herself away from populated areas.

  Smart, I think to myself as I quietly cruise behind her.

  Soon she comes to an area of woodland and slows further. I can almost sense her fear, feel her heart pounding in her chest, as she begins to slow under the canvas of leaves and swaying branches overhead. I drive slowly and quietly, cruising along like a mouse so I remain unheard. Then she turns gently up through a break in the woods and drives into the undergrowth. I hear a loud crack as she rolls over a branch on the ground before disappearing from view. I move up towards the opening and stop. Now I listen intently for movement and can still hear her tires cracking over fallen twigs and leaves as she carefully navigates her way deeper into the wood. Then, suddenly, I hear the light whir of her engine fall silent and the lights in the darkness go out. She's stopped.

  I immediately shut off my engine too and very gently open the door of my car. I step forward towards the opening and peer into the night, my night vision glasses illuminating the world ahead of me. Roughly 100 feet away I can see Kitty's car under a low hanging oak. It looks so out of place in the undergrowth; so lonely and desperate.

  I creep forward now, carefully watching the ground underfoot to avoid twigs and other crackling foliage. As I do I briefly remove my glasses and the world is plunged into total darkness. As I put them back on I realize that there's no way she can see me, not here. I keep moving, watching my step and inching closer to the car.

  Suddenly, a light comes on inside the car. I stop in my tracks, only about 20 feet from the vehicle, and see Kitty's face appear. She looks drained and exhausted, her eyes downcast and red.

  I stand still for a few moments as I watch her. But all she does is stare forward, lightly shaking her head and occasionally rubbing her eyes. I can see her cheeks glisten as tears gently roll down them, quickly brushed away by her fingers. But all she does is keep staring forward, staring into the blackness ahead of her.

  A deep feeling of pity builds in me at the sight of her. She looks so lost, so alone. Like there's nothing left in her life, nothing to cling onto. I can't help but feel sorry for her, sorry that her world has come crumbling down like this. I know the feeling of loss, of waking up one day to find that my world had been turned upside down; that nothing would ever be the same again.

  It seems like I stay standing there for hours, just watching her. I've never had this with a mark before. I've kept my own feelings at bay, made sure that I knew scant details of the person in order to remain unemotional. I've always acted like a robot. Track and deliver. Nothing more. But now, I can't help but hate myself and hate my life. Through my endless search to find my family's killer, to bring them to justice, I've become truly lost.

  Eventually I watch as Kitty's eyes flicker and begin to close. She looks like she's battling sleep, but is unable to keep it at bay. I still stand, motionless, as she drifts off into a dream. I find myself hoping that it's a pleasant one, but doubt that it will be.

  After her eyes have been closed for 10 minutes, I start creeping forward once more. I can see her head set back against her seat, her brown hair falling down over her forehead. Her face looks strangely peaceful and calm as I peer in through the window, and it brings a strange smile to my face. At least in sleep she's free of this, I think.

  I reach forward now and, as gently as I can, pull on the door handle. It clicks quietly and the door falls open, creaking lightly on its hinges as I widen the gap. Kitty stirs but doesn't wake, her face now contorting as her dream grows into a nightmare. A moan squeezes from her lips as she turns her head away and twists her body position to get more comfortable.

  Now I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a small syringe. It's a sleep agent that I use often on my targets and one that I administer through various means. A drop of it in a glass of water or mug of coffee. Drenched into a cloth and placed under the nose. Shot via a dart. There are various ways to skin a cat, and trust me, I've tried them all.

  I hold the syringe carefully over her arm as she lies there, unaware of my presence. Then, with a quick jab, I stab the end into her upper arm and squeeze on the end. Her eyes pop open immediately but, just as quickly, fold into themselves once more and disappear back into their sockets. She only has time to turn to face me, a fear shot like lightning across her face, before falling unconscious. In that split second I know she thinks I'm the one who killed her aunt and uncle, who killed her friend.

  But I'm not. I'm the one who's going to save her.

  Chapter 8 - Kitty

  Kitty

  When I wake it takes me a few moments to get my bearings. It's been like this for days now, ever since I left LA. I wake up each morning not quite knowing where I am, until a few moments pass and reality sets back in. This time, however, those moments don't change anything. I really don't know where I am. The last I knew I was sitting in my car out in the woods. Now I'm lying on an uncomfortable bed in what looks to be a motel room.

  There are simple paintings on the walls. I'm not one for art but I'd call them 'impressionistic' if pushed into an answer. Then there's a small refrigerator humming quietly by the wall, with a old box television sat next to it on top of a wooden table. It's dim in the room, the blinds and heavy curtains blocking off most of the light from outside. When my eyes begin to adjust, I notice a shape in the corner. It's the dark shape of a man, sitting in a chair.

  My heart drops into my stomach as I look at him. Is this the man who killed Tara, who killed my aunt and uncle? If he is, why am I not dead?

  My eyes are still adjusting as his face grows clearer. His eyes are closed. He's asleep.

  I slowly slide to the edge of the bed and drop my feet to the ground. I'm fully clothed still, but my shoes have been taken off and placed by the door. I tiptoe over to them before peering back behind me into the far corner of the room. The man sits, silent and still as a statue. I turn back and pull on my left shoe, then my right, before standing and reaching for the door handle.

  “I wouldn't go out there.” The voice comes from behind me and I freeze, my hand lingering in midair above the handle.

  “It's not safe for you,” he continues. “Nowhere's safe for you now.”

  I quickly consider my options. I could run right now. Turn the handle and rush off into the sunshine. But I don't know where I am. I don't know if my car's out there. And by now, every damn cop in the whole state will be looking for me.

  “Who are you?” I blurt out suddenly, without thinking. “Have you come to kill me?”

  I stay looking at the door, my hand hovering, in case I need to run.

  The man stays silent a moment before answering. “No. But someone else is trying to.”

  Now I turn and face him. He remains seated, sitting casually in the shadows. “Who?” I ask, even though I already know it's Michael Carmine, or one of his assassins.

  “You know who Miss Munroe,” he says. “The question I want to know is why?”

  “Why do you want to know? And....who are you?” I ask again.

  He sighs quietly, almost in resignation. “Because I was paid to find you. To bring you to him.”

  “So...you know why,” I say, confused.

  I can see the shadow of his head shaking. “No, I wasn't told.”

  “Well what does it matter, if you're going to take me back to him anyway?”

  He goes silent again.

  “You saw something didn't you?” he asks. “You saw something you weren't supposed to and now he wants you out of the picture. Tell me what you saw.”

  He's perceptive, or he's not letting on all he knows. Is he here to get the truth out of me? Is he h
ere to find out exactly what I know? Maybe Carmine won't kill me if he thinks I don't know anything?

  “I saw nothing,” I say. “I don't know why he wants me so much.” My lie is unconvincing and I know it.

  “So why is he chasing you? Why has he killed 3 people to get to you. It was meant to be you in the apartment in LA wasn't it? He didn't know that you had a friend staying.”

  The sight of Tara, shot through the chest, flashes back across my eyes. I squeeze them tight, as if to shut it out. “It was my fault,” I whisper. “She died because of me.”

  “Because you saw something...” he says again. “Tell me the truth Miss Munroe. What did you see.”

  I open my eyes and look into his. Even in the dim light of the room I can see a fire lit inside them. This man will not be seduced by my pathetic sidetracking. It's clear to me that he's a professional, and won't stop until he's gotten the truth from me. I only dread to think of the means he'll go to if I don't tell him outright.

  “I saw him shoot someone,” I blurt out.

  “Where?”

  “Outside his bar in the parking lot. It was after work. I was leaving out the back and heard raised voices. I went to see what was going on and that's when I saw it.”

  “And they saw you?” he asks quickly.

  “No, I don't think so. As soon as I saw the guy get shot I ran down the alley before anyone could see. I remember looking back and there was no one following me. I don't know how, but someone must have seen me.”

  “CCTV,” he says. “There's CCTV down the alley and at the front of the bar covering the street. It's hidden from view, so you won't have seen it.”

  CCTV. Makes so much sense, I think. A man like Michael Carmine is always going to have cameras around his offices to warn him of any danger. I remember knocking over a trashcan at the end of the alley. They will have heard it, checked the tape, and put two and two together. If only I hadn't knocked over that can, they might never have known. Then Tara would never be dead. My family would have been kept safe. And now...now it's my turn to face the music. I wish they'd just gotten me from the start. Now all those deaths will forever be on my conscience.

  The man ahead of me moves suddenly, standing up from his chair. He's tall and strong looking, his dark hair short and neatly cut. He moves forward slowly and I can't help but step back, cowering against the door. This is it. He's confirmed that I knew about the killing and now he's going to kill me. I feel the handle of the door in the small of my back and reach around, ready to twist it and rush from the room, but his words stop me in my tracks.

  “Don't open that door,” he says. “You'll be safer with me.”

  He's getting closer now and his features are growing clearer in the light. His blue eyes sparkle as they pass a glint of sunshine cutting across the room, but there's no menace in them. His expression is stern, but doesn't appear threatening. I'd even say there was pity on his face.

  Yet I still cower. I can't help it given the few days I've had. I feel my hand pulling down on the handle of the door without thinking, and it cracks open. A shard of light storms in diagonally across the room, but I still don't turn, and he doesn't rush towards me. In fact, he stops, several feet away, and looks me dead in the eye.

  “I'm not going to chase you Kitty. If you want to go, then go. But I can assure you, you won't last a minute out there alone.”

  “Why do you care?” I ask. “Weren't you sent here to take me back....or was it to kill me yourself?”

  His calm demeanor is almost broken at my words, a light flinch crossing his face. He's silent for a few moments before speaking again. “I'm here to help you,” he says, “not hurt you. Now step away from the door and sit down. We have a lot to talk about.”

  I find myself following his order as my hand gently pushes the door shut. The slit of light disappears, and once more the room grows dim. I move now towards the bed and sit down, staring at him the whole time. His eyes don't leave mine until I'm perched on the end of the bed. Then he turns, pulls his chair from the corner, and places it down in front of me.

  “Clearly, you know what sort of danger you're in,” he says, his piercing blue eyes burrowing into me. “I hope you'll understand that I had to get rid of your car for your own safety.”

  My eyes widen. “My car! I gasp. “What did you do with it!” That car is my favorite possession, the most valuable thing I own.

  “That's not relevant,” he says calmly. “It was going to be a liability for you. You'd have been caught driving it within a day, so I removed it from the equation.”

  “Removed it from the equation! That was my car! It cost me nearly ten grand!”

  “And it was going to cost you your life too. Trust me, you're much better off without it.”

  “Trust you! You kidnap me in the night, bring me to a strange hotel room, and destroy my car! What else have you done?!” I'm slightly exasperated, and potentially over-reacting. It's just that car – I loved that car.

  He doesn't react though. His steely stare remains plastered to his face, albeit with the hint of a smile cracking at the corner of his mouth. Clearly my reaction has amused him somewhat.

  “I take it you got rid of your phone?” he asks.

  I nod, panting a bit.

  “Well then, clearly you have some sense. Hopefully, then, when you've calmed down, you'll understand why I did the same with your car.”

  I huff my shoulders and shake my head. It really shouldn't bother me so much, but with everything in my life crumbling around me that car was just about all I had left. I mean, I could have got some fake number plates or removed them completely or something. He didn't have to go destroying it!

  “You haven't used your credit cards either. That's good. You can't use those again, ever. As soon as you do you'll have the cops swooping in on you, and worse.”

  “Then how will I get cash? What will I live on?”

  He stands and moves to a bag by the wall. After he leans down and unzips it he reappears holding a small wallet. He tosses it over to me and I open it up. Inside is a bundle of money. I can't tell how much.

  “There's 3 thousand dollars in there,” he says. “That will do for now.”

  “But....what is this. I can't take your money.” I must sound incredibly ungrateful, but really I'm not. I'm just confused.

  “It's not my money,” he says. “It's yours.”

  “Mine?”

  He nods. “Obviously at such short notice I couldn't get full value, but at least it's something.”

  The penny drops. “You sold it? The car?”

  He nods again as he sits back down in front of me. “Now, that money is your lifeline,” he goes on, “and it will help you start fresh, if you want to. I know some people who can help you to disappear, to get a new identity...”

  My mind wavers as he speaks. Start fresh. New identity. Just give up on my life and run away? I can't do that. I can't just tuck my tail between my legs and give up.

  “No...no,” I say, cutting in. “I don't want to start a new life. Why should I have to?”

  “Because if you don't, you're dead,” he says bluntly. “Whether the police catch you or Carmine does, you won't find any protection. Do you have any idea who Michael Carmine is? What he's capable of? The fact that I'm even sitting here right now, telling you this, is putting my own life in danger. If he ever found out, he'd hunt me down too. I can take care of myself, but you....you wouldn't last. Take my advice Kitty. Run, and don't look back.”

  I realize how selfish I'm being. This man, this stranger, is helping me – trying to save my life – and all I can do is moan and disagree. It's just so hard to hear right now. It's all been happening so fast. One moment I'm happy in the park with Tara, the next she's dead and I'm on the run from a man who won't rest until I'm dead too. How did this all happen? How did it all come to this?

  He must see the confusion and fear in my eyes because his voice suddenly grows more gentle. “Look, this is your chance for something new. I
t doesn't happen to everyone, not in these sorts of situations. You're being given a second chance here, OK. Please, take it.”

  I look into his eyes, and they're almost pleading with me to agree.

  “Why do you care?” I ask, my voice turning to a whisper. “Why are you putting yourself in danger for me?”

  His eyes turn down. “Because it's the right thing to do.”

  A silence dawns on the room as we both retreat into our own thoughts. This man, who was hired to find me, is suddenly helping me. Why? Because he's suddenly had a conscience crisis and is turning over a new leaf? Part of me remains suspicious and doesn't buy it. What can he possibly gain from doing this? Why would he risk himself for someone he doesn't know?

  The question turns over and over in my mind as the cracks of light from outside begin to weaken. I just realize that I have no idea what the time is. I have no idea where we are. I don't even know this man's name. So I ask, and he tells me.

  “My name's Colt,” he says quietly. “We're still in Central California just off the West Side Freeway. We can stay here this evening, and tomorrow I'll take you north. I have a friend who can help you start fresh. Somewhere you won't be found.”

  I nod as he speaks, unable to disagree or think of any alternative. What can I really do? Go to the police? Carmine will get to me. Go talk to Carmine himself? Plead with him to let me carry on with my life, that I won't say a word about what I saw? No, that won't work. He's already killed 3 people and now there's a huge investigation around me. If anything, I've become even more dangerous, even more of a liability if the police do catch me. He'll want to find me before they do, make sure that I'm wiped out before I can even open my mouth. Run and hide. There really is no other option.

  The room begins to fade into darkness now as the sun treks towards its sleeping place beneath the horizon. Colt stands and walks over to the window, opening the curtain slightly and peering out. His eyes scan the parking lot outside before letting the curtain drop back into place. Then he flicks on the light for the first time and the room is bathed in a pallid yellow, bringing the sickly colors of the room to life. It reminds me distinctly of a hospital ward.