Fugitive

Chapter 25

She clearly knew the room wasn't meant to be occupied so I didn't try to come up with a lie. Instead I ran in the opposite direction knowing she wouldn't chase after me. After a few minutes of jogging down the street I slowed to a walk. Everyone was out and about on their way to work. Dreading the coming week. I never really understood how that felt. I had a job during high school at the local supermarket stocking shelves and stacking boxes. I only went there on Sundays and three other days during the week. It paid pretty well. I didn't need a lot of money back then anyway. Mom and Dad were always pretty generous and I never got a car. I had my license, but never really had a need for my own vechile. I didn't know what I wanted to do when I left school so I went straight into the marines. Well not instantly, but I spent all the time until I left at home enjoying the feeling of freedom. I started training in October 2011. Or sometime around then. Training was brutal but I was already pretty fit from football and basketball. I spent a lot of my time working out. It was something I enjoyed. My first tour was May or 2012. The original tour was meant to last about seven months. A typical deployment length. For some reason, they extended our tour for another five months. I don't know the real reason. Despite being the ones that had to stay longer we were kept in the dark about why. There must have been some kind of attack somewhere. After a year, I came home. It was difficult when I first came back. The terror of war had gotten to me. But I wanted to go back. There were moments over there when I really felt like I was making a difference, like our whole unit was making a difference. It was... liberating. I guess. So, after three months at home recovering I left again. By recovering I mean getting over the whole war aspect. I talked to a few different counsillors and spent my days doing things that really inspired life. Like walking in the park, spending time with the people I loved and watching the kids run around. Or skydiving. Which I did just as I was about to leave. I was willing to get back to life in the marines. There was nothing for me at home anyway. My family was great and all, but I didn't have a house, a job, or anyone special back home so there wasn't much point staying any longer. Mom and Dad let me stay at their place during those three months. I left in August 2013. Mom and Dad didn't want me to leave. But I did anyway. So, at 19 I was off again. My second tour was my favourite at the time. If you can have a favourite tour. It was brutal, as all tours are. But it was a little more relaxed than the last one. We'd earnt some respect for staying longer than our intended deployment so we were allowed some privileges. We spent more time sitting around base camps drinking that the last time. That was when I met Isaac. We became buddies instantly. I was about twenty at the time and he was 18. He graduated high school early and went straight into the Marines. He was smart. Probably the smartest guy I'd ever met. Which was weird. From my experience, high school drop outs aren't the smartest. In fact, by reputation Marines aren't exactly the smartest either. Of course that's just a stereotype. But I know a lot of the guys there were more athletic than smart. They weren't dumb, obviously. But they definitely couldn't explain quantum physics or the scientific explanation of the earths creation to you. Isaac had a girlfriend back home. I didn't have the heart to tell him it probably wouldn't work out. For a smart guy, he really was pretty clueless sometimes. He didn't understand the way life worked. It was his first tour. He was quite horrified by what was going on. I guess he hadn't fully grasped the concept of seeing dead bodies and shooting people. He didn't get how people could kill one another. Isaac died near the end of the tour. I was with him when he was shot. I took out the one who had shot him quickly. It was a clean shot right through the chest. For a brief few moments I was with him. He tried to talk to me and I told him to shut up. It was one of the worst things I've ever experienced. He was never recognised as well as he should be. I sent flowers to his family and his girlfriend, who admitted to me in tears on the phone that she was thinking about leaving him. She felt so guilty. Like if she had been more sure of her feelings maybe he would have come home to her. I told her it wouldn't have made a difference. It was horrible. We were so close to coming home. So close to seeing our families again. For him to be killed so close to our return date was devastating. I was recognised for my sharpshooting during that tour. When I came back in November 2014 I went into a selected program for sharp shooters. The details of which I can't exactly talk about. I spent a few months at home with Mom and Dad. Catching up with everyone, spending some time with old friends. I spent a good deal of time with Isaacs family. Talking about how amazing and bright he was seemed to help their grieving process. It helped mine too. We grew pretty close for a bit. He had a sister that I almost had a thing with. That ended as quickly as it started when she found out I was going back to train as a sniper and then leave for another tour. She'd learnt her lesson. She wanted nothing to do with anyone in the Marines, Army, Navy, etc. I got a part time job for a bit. I delivered stuff a couple of days a week for a food company. It was mostly to cure my boredom on my time off. After that I went across country to train. We trained for several months. My team became one of the most elite sharp shooters in the country. We were the ones with 'the knack'. The training was to enhance our talents with technical skills. I came home for a couple of days over Christmas and then left for my third tour December 28th 2015. That tour was my longest. 19 months total. It was late July 2017 when I returned. I spent that tour doing a lot more sniper work rather than hand to hand combat. I watched from a vantage point and told my team where to go. I told them where the enemy was and the best way to take them out. On a few occasions, I was sent on missions to kill important members of terrorist groups. Again, not stuff I'm legally allowed to talk about. I continued down the street, walking as far from the road as I could. I'd been lucky. No one had recognised me. I kept walking until I reached Dennis's street. I looked over at his house. He was home. The car that I saw in the drive the other day was still there. The lights were on. I snuck around the back of the house. I expected there to be someone there. I expected cops to be sitting in undercover cars outside. But nothing. I jiggled the back door handle as quietly as I could. I could hear movement inside. A sneak in the window revealed Dennis inside. He was working out. He did push-ups and then pull ups with a bar in the doorframe. I bashed the door in by kicking it. I stumbled a bit as the door swung open. Regaining my balance, I ran into the house and chases Dennis down. He was already in the hallway to the front door. I pulled out my gun. "Stop"! He froze knowing better than to keep running. He turned around. "I know why you're here. I didn't call the cops". "Of course you called the fucking cops! Who else would have called them"? "Well until two minutes ago I thought maybe you had". I glared at him. "Right, I called the cops. As a wanted criminal". "Well you're obviously insane", he said. The insult didn't mean anything but it provoked my annoyance. "If you didn't call the cops. Who did then huh"? "How the fuck should I know"? I groaned in annoyance. I could tell he was telling the truth though. He's a good liar, but not that good. I hadn't been around him long enough to really grasp his 'tells'. Everyone has them. Usually, depending on how much the person has to hide, it doesn't take long to figure them out. Despite not knowing his 'tells', I knew he wasn't lying. By that point, I'd decided that someone else must have seen me and called the cops. Or maybe I was picked up on a security camera when I was searching the lot for anything suspicious. How ironic. I spent my time searching for any hidden cameras, that I ended up being caught by the obvious ones. "We didn't get a chance to finish our conversation", I stated. "No, we didn't". He looked smug. I didn't say anything. "Right, well let's continue", Dennis stated leaning up against the wall. I looked around behind him and through the window at the people on the street. It was if they'd all swarmed here suddenly. There were too many witnesses. A lady taking out the trash. Two children playing in the yard across the street. A couple taking a stroll. "Not here", I muttered. "Well, I've got to go to work in a few minutes", Dennis said, checking his imaginary watch. A lie. That was his tell. Looking away. Not in an obvious way. In a way that seems normal. Just then, he avoided eye contact by looking at his 'watch'. Clever. Not clever enough. "Call me yeah"? Did he think this whole thing was a joke? "No", I growled through my teeth. "I'll put a note in your mailbox this afternoon. It will have a location on it. You will go there tonight. We'll sort this out once and for all". Dennis smirked. "Fine by me". Again, his confidence unsettled me. I left the way I came, through the back door. I ran down the street avoiding all people I saw. I had a real sense of déjà vu leaving his house. I'd done the exact same thing the day before. I seemed to be going around in circles and Dennis was perfectly fine talking to me now. I didn't like it. I should have the upper hand. I'm the one making the 'threats'. Yet somehow, I felt like he was ahead of me. Looking back, right as he crossed the finish line. I picked up some breakfast at another small diner. It didn't have any serious cameras. Just one by the door that a casual cap adjustment would outsmart. As the lady was handing over my food she looked more intently at my face. "Do I know you"? I shook my head. "I don't think so". Before I could turn around she figured out who I was. "You're that Jacob Rogers guy"!