Crash Tackle Me and I'll Hack the LAPD

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I’m hungry. I have no idea where my parents are or what they’re doing for that matter. I’m hungry because there’s no food anywhere in the house. Well not anymore, I've gone through what there was. Not to mention I’m locked in the house from the outside. Unfortunately I'd never realised how much of a fortress our house is.

Three days ago my own parents held a gun to my head and told me to stay inside the house. Not like they gave me much of a choice. They also told me not to tell anyone where they were, not that they told me anyway. With no explanation they locked me inside and left with the car. They never said 'Goodbye' or 'We love you, be safe'. Nope, they just gave out their orders and expected me to follow them.

So I’m hungry because I ate what food there was left over the last couple of days. I might have forgotten to mention that there is no cell service and the land line is cut, so there is no chance of calling for help. Just my luck, not that anyone would be able to force their way inside our prison like mansion. The land line being cut also means no internet so, once again, no help there either. Luckily I’m a clever cookie and I’ve finally found something to pick the backdoor lock.

Another thing I may have forgotten to mention, my parents are filthy rich. In other words, they’re 100% paranoid about security and major control freaks. Every door and window has at least three locks on it. You might ask 'Why bother with the locks? Just smash a window.'. Well when your parents are like mine they have bullet proof glass windows. Yep, you guessed it, they are virtually impossible to smash. Trust me I tried.

I literally spent two and a half hours on the backdoor's locks and by the time I finally got outside it was around eleven o’clock in the morning. I stood on the back veranda which faces the beach (again filthy rich means big expensive two story mansion that backs onto the beach).  I was feeling pretty damn accomplished, until , of course, things went wrong.

The noise was barely audible but I still heard it. Voices. Soft whispering voices. Then I caught my first glimpse of the people the voices belonged to. Unfortunately the moment I spotted them they spotted me.

I bolted.

If you think you know the definition of sprinting, you truly don’t. Though in my defense, I don’t think running away from a squad of armed people, who look as if they're about to storm your house, is an unreasonable or irrational reaction to have. I was absolutely freaked. I have a thing with guns. If there is a phobia for fear of guns, then I’ve got it. So when a bunch of people rock up at your door loaded to the teeth and carrying guns, I really don’t think running is a bad reaction.

Unfortunately for me, they did. Half sprinting, half stumbling down my back steps and onto the sandy beach I briefly cast a glanced over my shoulder to see if I was being followed.  And of course I was, by three guys surprisingly without guns. I snapped my head back around and clumsily raced over the dry sand. Running on dry sand is seriously hard. I wasn't doing too bad, though I wasn’t gaining any head way. Thankfully the three guys chasing after me weren’t gaining. Yet.

I kept looking over my shoulder to check their progress and mine. Except there was now only two people pursuing me. I turned around and almost face planted in the sand. A wave just came up along the sand cutting my route off. Skidding to a halt  on the shifting sand I barely managed to stay on my feet. I started off again but I knew it was useless. The two guys were only about ten paces behind me. I couldn’t get to the speed I was at before, it was just too hard.