Fugitive

Chapter 35

I didn't stick around. I packed up the gun and slung the case over my shoulder running outside and into the trees. There were voices and a few shouts as I disappeared into the trees. I knew no one had seen me, besides the guy knocked out on the floor. I pushed back branches as I ran. My pace was still significantly slower than it should be. I tried to push myself but I just couldn't. Not without risking passing out or collapsing because I couldn't breathe. I left everything behind and disappeared. The following morning, I woke up. I'd stolen a car and slept in it during the night. My neck was bent at an odd angle and stiff but it was better than sleeping on the street. Guilt was starting to creep in, but it never took over the satisfaction. I felt bad for the fisherman. But really, he threw the first punch. It was self-defence, sort of. Dennis was dead. My job was done. I didn't really know what to do with myself. I found a grocery store and got a few things, avoiding all the cameras of course. My face hidden by a cap. I stocked up on food, planning to head across country. I figured I'd just keep driving. To where? I didn't really know. I planned to disappear. Live out the rest of my life. Wait for things to calm down and then maybe come back. Before I left I stopped back at Pucks place. I gave him back his riffle. Very little words were exchanged. In fact, he told me to put it back myself, apparently, he had ducks to kill. He did tell me something strange though. He said some guy had come around asking for me. He seemed like a normal guy from the description Puck gave me. Round face, tanned skin, wrinkles around his eyes, yet lean and fit. Probably mid forties. Maybe closer to fifty. He'd left a note. A folded piece of paper. Standard A4. Nothing unusual about it. And nothing unusual about the guy really, other than him seemingly knowing me when I had no idea who he was. Puck told me the note was inside on the table. I headed inside. The note was sitting exactly where Puck had described. First, I put the gun back where I remember him getting it from. Then I opened the note. It was written with a black ballpoint pen. It read 

'Jacob Rogers. We've been watching you for a while now. We believe you are an ideal candidate for our program. None of us expected you to come willingly. Procedures will be taken to get you to join us if you refuse to comply. For now, however, know that you owe us for saving your life at the warehouse. That sniper had you dead in his sights Jacob, but I think you already knew that. Consider this a formal request of reimbursement and also an apology for shooting you. Necessary I'm afraid. Think about it Jacob, but don't take too long. There are some things we are tired of holding for you. Call the number below when you're ready to talk'. 

The number was at the bottom of the page. It wasn't signed. I flipped it over, expecting there to be something else. Anything else. There wasn't. I folded the paper back up. So, this was someone else. If they were telling the truth, then they had saved my life. He (or she) was right. From what the police had said I was about to be shot when they, whoever they were intervened. If they stopped another guy from killing me, why would they shoot me themselves? Why was it necessary? None of it made sense. What program? What kind of program? And what made me an 'ideal candidate'? The note said they'd been following me. For how long? Were they following me now? I ran outside and found Puck again. "When did this guy come"? Puck shrugged. "Dunno. Not too long after you left last time actually. Like they knew you'd been here". I nodded and left him alone again. I passed the shed on the way out. Glancing in I noticed something I hadn't really picked up before. There was a handgun sitting on the table. I glanced at it. Looking away and about to leave when I walked over and grabbed it. I tucked it into my waistband and walked out. I checked to make sure Puck wasn't there. He was gone, there was no one to witness the crime. Thought I doubted it would go unnoticed I figured I would be long gone by then. I wasn't 100% sure why I actually took it. I guess I didn't like being gunless. After a few years of being around guns and witnessing the worlds horrors I guess I just felt safer with one around. I had no intention of using it for anything but, since these people had been following me, maybe it was necessary. I pulled out of his driveway and headed towards the highway. I kept thinking about the note. Suddenly I was even more paranoid I was being followed. Or though, this time I wasn't looking out for the police. It made me realise how easy it would have been for me to miss someone. Someone who may have been following me for days. I was only ever really looking out for people in uniform, or police cars. I looked in the rear view mirror every few seconds. So that was in them. Some random organisation with a 'program' had shot the sniper on the roof that was supposed to kill me. They also shot me. For some reason that was apparently necessary. But I still didn't really know who either party was. Maybe they knew. Who the sniper on the roof about to shoot me was, I mean. The note was burning a hole in my pocket. The more I thought about it the more I wanted to know who it was. I hadn't forgotten the warehouse incident, but before I'd received the note I was somehow more at peace with it. Now it was all I could think about. That and the satisfaction of Dennis's death. Did it make me a horrible person? Maybe. I didn't care. Cat and Toby were avenged. I didn't know if I was going to call the number. I wanted to. It sounded like they had the whole picture. This whole time I'd felt like I had only seen parts of the frame. The note sounded like a threat. Like something bad would happen if I didn't do what they wanted. But what can they do to me really. Cat and Toby are already dead and I'm a wanted fugitive, probably for the rest of my life. I cursed myself for even thinking that. When people say that something worse happens. Always. I still have my friends. And my parents. Parents who I haven't contacted in ages, not that I could. I'm disappointed I never saw them in hospital. Disappointed they never thought to visit. Or that they couldn't. I don't know. I dismissed the ntoe from my mind for a while. I had to get out of town. Then I could worry about everything else. I was already a few miles out of Jacksonville on route 17 when I turned on the car radio. It was mostly static. I adjusted the channels. "We are asking for Jacob Rogers to come in. We have uncovered new evidence that proves he is innocent. We just want to sort everything out. Jacob, if you're out there. Come in to your nearest police station and we'll sort this out". I couldn't believe my ears. That had to be a trap right. There was no evidence. What evidence could there be? Dennis was thorough. Nevertheless, the hope of possible freedom was enough for me to turn the car around. I didn't know if there was a police station closer than the Richmond Police Department so that's where I headed. I wasn't about to walk right in there. I'm not that stupid. I drove around the block before parking at the Library across the road from the department so I had a clear view. After almost an hour of waiting, I could determine that there was no swat team or anything waiting there for me. But walking into a police station is about the equivalent of walking into a lion's den. I grabbed the gun and took a breath before getting out of the car. I walked through the carpark and across the street to the front door of the police station. I held the gun in my right hand dangled by my leg. I pushed the door open. The front desk was straight ahead. Two police officers stood behind it. I lifted the gun and pointed it at them. "What's this about evidence of my innocence"? Both of them drew their guns. "Put them down" I said sternly. "I will shoot you". Even I didn't believe my threat. They didn't listen instead one radioed for backup. I was about to turn and high tail out of there when one of them started talking. "Jacob, we do have evidence. If you'll just put the gun down"... "If I put the gun down, there is no guarantee you won't arrest me". "You'll just have to trust us Jacob". "How can I trust the people who have been chasing me for something I didn't do"? A few seconds after I said that, before either of them could response another officer came out from the back. Followed by Tony. "Tony? What are you doing here"? The police officer he was following had a Sheriff's badge. He didn't draw his gun instead putting his arms up. "Just put the gun down Jacob and we can talk". "Tell me how you got the evidence". "You'll have to ask your friend here". "Tony"? "The bug we planted man. After you left I kept listening to it. For ages he didn't say anything but yesterday afternoon he admitted it. Unintentionally of course and we got it on tape. We have an audio recording inside", he pointed behind him. "Are you serious"? I asked. I found myself lowering my arm. "What does this mean"? "It means you're innocent", the Sherriff said. "I'm sorry we've been doubting you for so long. There is no longer a warrant for your arrest. You're free. However, we would like to bring you in for questioning. We want to hear your story". I looked at Tony. He nodded, smiling kind of like he'd just scored the winning goal at the Superbowl. I felt sure he would have given me a fist bump and thumbs up if it didn't seem a little inappropriate at the time. The safety on the gun was still turned on. I handed it to the Sherriff who took it and handed it to one of the deputies behind the desk. "I told you I had your back man". "Mr Rogers, if you'd like to follow me to one of the interrogation rooms"... he held open the door for me. I entered the interrogation room. "Can I get you anything"? I nodded. "You know, something to eat would be great, and some water"? The Sherriff nodded and sent someone to go and grab something from the nearest take out place. He intertwined his fingers stretching out his arms and leaning them on the desk in front of him. We were seated across from each other, but I wasn't getting any intimidation vibes that I had expected. "So, Jacob. Tell me exactly what happened". I took a breath. "It all began on a quiet Sunday morning"...