The Trees Have Eyes (On Hold)

Out of the Frying Pan

                I pull into the parking lot full of taxis close to dusk. We unbuckle ourselves and climb into the back again, hiding inbetween the seats until it’s safe for us to get out. When we don’t hear any footsteps or voices we converse a little bit. Or at least I try and get answers out of him.

     “So. Mage. Why are you here?” I quietly wonder.

     “Now isn’t the best time,” he growls lowly. Then he mouths something to me. In training to become what I am today, I had to learn how to read lips. It can be difficult sometimes if the person is speaking at the speed of lightning or if they mouth things very slowly to try and get me to understand what they’re saying. He apparently underestimates my ability since mouthing each syllable takes an eternity for him to finish but I get the message. He’s being tracked and someone’s eavesdropping through some kind of electronic connection. I point to his belt which has a metal buckle on it. He looks down at it then takes it off. I pull out a mini kit of handy tools and start fiddling with the buckle. As my father had told me, always be prepared. I cut the leather from the metal and force open where the buckle had been melded together. Sure enough, there are wires inside it.

     “Nice try you bastards,” I say into the miniature microphone that’s just a small speck glued in it before clipping the wires. I then make him take his wristwatch off, smashing the clock face in to destroy any listening or tracking device that is inside. “That should be it for now.” He shakes his head.

     “That may be all the listening bugs but the tracking one is inside me on my upper left shoulder,” he explains.

     “Then we need to get out of here pronto,” I groan and pick up the gun that was pulled on me and Mage.

     “Your fingerprints,” he warns me but I don’t worry one bit.

     “Don’t have any that’ll show,” I tell him. “It’s not like they have my DNA in the system anyway,” I scoff. My mother always made sure I scrubbed my fingertips and thumbs with pumice stone when I was little so no one would be able to identify me. To this day I still take pumice to my fingers.

     “It’s now or never,” he says and gets the door ready for him to escape.

     “And your plan is?” I look at him crossly.

     “Just to get out of here alive.”

     “Not much of a plan. Run towards the north,” I point to the right side of the taxicab. “Once we find a car, we can break into it and get away from here,” I lay out a strategy for us to follow.

     “Are you going to be able to run in those heels?” he asks, looking down at my feet. I glare at him.

     “I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?” He nods with no further questions and then we get out of the car. On my way out, I grab the crowbar underneath the driver’s seat along with the floor mat. No one has come for us yet. We race out of the taxicab yard and climb over the wire fencing. To go above the barbed wire without having any sharp metal digging into our skin I cover the wire with the rubber mat. It isn’t until we are on the other side when the shooting starts. Two black cars, both black Aston Martin DBSes, are parked off to the side of the road and five people are heading for us. Our guns have already been at the ready. We shoot back while our legs move as fast as they possibly can. There’s a forest green 1996 Toyota Camry LE right up ahead, probably from a worker that was locked out of the taxi parking lot. I know now is not the time to say this but yes I also know cars. When you steal one, you have to know what you’re dealing with. I shoot once more at our pursuers and then bust the driver’s window with the crowbar when we reach the vehicle. While he holds them off I get inside the driver seat and pry open the part underneath the steering wheel to expose the wires. I work quickly, getting the car to start. I unlock the passenger door for Mage and he immediately climbs in.

     “Aim for their tires,” I instruct him to do as we speed past them and then their cars. He does so, hitting at least three out of eight.

     “We make a pretty good team I’d say,” he jokes. I laugh once. Part way down the road I grab the gun I had stolen and crack him on the side of the head so he passes out. I reach in his pocket to find the jammer he had spoken about. When I pull the small black and silver rectangular prism, the little red and green lights that should be flashing aren’t blinking. Sadly since the jammer he has is now dead and I don’t have anything that’ll emit a strong enough radio frequency to block the signal coming from his shoulder, I need to get that tracker out of his body as soon as possible.