Fading Numbers

Prologue

Distant and rapid footsteps softly echoed in the hallways that were adjacent to the metallic door a few yards away from where Exton was swiftly jabbing his fingers against the keys of his 14-inch laptop with Braxton and Delilah behind him. As soon as Exton bypassed the second security firewall of Capital One, someone nimbly barged through the door and tripped over the wires trailing on the carpet that were connected to outlets around the room. He untangled his caramel shins from the web of wires he was hooked in, ignored the tiny bead of blood growing on his newly scraped, dark knees, and glanced up at his three best friends. It was Isaiah with a petrified look painted across his face.

"We need to go," Isaiah staggered besides Exton checking over the progress he made in the past hour before tossing passports and tickets on the table. "Now. Pack everything you can in five minutes. We're boarding the next flight to Minnesota."

"What?" Exton pressed his wide-framed glasses atop the bridge of his nose while typing in a decryption key that would deliver him to all recent transactions from bank accounts that have a balance higher than $1,000,000,000. "Why? I just got through security untraced. If you just give me another 30 minutes we can be rich enough to spoil ourselves for five life times."

"Yeah dude, what the hell are you talking about?" Braxton asked, leaning against the chair that Exton was perched on.

"The Federal Bureau of Investigation is onto us, that's what the hell I'm talking about," Isaiah frantically paced to the other end of the room while stroking his thick curls and fastened all the luggages shut before setting them on their wheels.

"Chill dude. Use acronyms," Braxton cackled sarcastically. "I just checked FBI's status like five minutes ago. They don't even have a clue that we're in America, I think."

"Yeah, well you think wrong," Isaiah was stuffing all our kitchen utensils and bathroom supplies into his duffel bag. "I skimmed a report about how FBI identified our faces in those passports we used to get back in the states and now they're about to send a squad down here in Summerlin to scout every hotel and motel for us. We need to leave Nevada. Now."

Braxton childish smirk quickly dissipated into an alerted expression before pivoting around and increasing the volume on the FBI intercom that he recently tapped into. He immediately grasped onto his headphones sprawled on the table and slipped it over his ears. Braxton furrowed his eyebrows while concentrating on twisting the radio dial to tune into a residential, active FBI intercom. After tuning into five different stations, he finally got live newsfeed.

" - standby. Permission granted to resume high pursuit on suspects. Regions 1-54 dispatch into Las Vegas. Regions 2-54 dispatch into Henderson. Regions 3-54 dispatch into Summerlin. Regions - "

Braxton pried his headphones off of his head and slammed it onto the table frustratedly earning glares from Delilah as he screeched, "We've only been in this hotel for two hours and they've already pinpointed us into Nevada. They're getting quicker every time. If we had the money to buy better hardware to create better monitors, we won't have to be on the run."

"Well, consider us not on the run," Exton spun around on his wheeled chair with a grin planted on his face while waving around a piece of paper that had numbers scribbled onto it. "I mean, it might not be enough so we'll need to try again in some other state cause I've only managed to obtain one debit card file. It should be enough to cover our tracks better for next time though."

Braxton loosened his clenched fists and gazed at Exton like he was an angel. Then he hustled towards Exton and enveloped him into his arms and tousled his hair violently, knocking his glasses off his face.

"Best. Twin. Brother. Ever," Braxton did a little dance before powering down their electronic devices one by one.

Exton chuckled out of embarrassment, stuffed the paper in his wallet, powered down his laptop, and gently folded it closed before inserting it into a slot in his duffel bag that had soot and tears along the navy blue lining. Delilah patted his back before tucking her purple highlights behind her ears.

"Everyone got everything they needed?" Delilah ignored everybody's consistent nodding to her question while sliding her sunglasses onto her face.

"10-76 to La Quinta Inn heading southwest on Redding Avenue; copy. Regions 2-54 dispatch, be advised that I'll be attempting contact on arrival. What's your 20?" FBI feed blared out of Braxton's radio with a side dish of vague static in the background noise before he switched it off and packed it up.

"Alright, that means they're still ten minutes away but we really have to go. Everybody have their new passports?" Delilah adjusted her cap to cover her eyes but she caught a glimpse of Braxton running his jittery fingers through his mop of black hair and Exton firmly cleaning the frames of his glasses and subtly smiled. Seeing the twins by her side always made her feel at ease.

Silently, they trotted out into the hallway and hung the Do Not Disturb sigh on the doorknob of their room. They soundlessly dashed to the elevators and waited for it to arrive after pushing the button twenty times while Delilah kept staring down the hallways suspiciously and Isaiah was on the phone.

"There's a taxi waiting for us downstairs," Isaiah put his phone back in his pocket calmly but dubiously narrowed his eyes at the elevator doors. He continued to fidget with his curls - it was a habit he did when he was nervous.

As the elevators ascended, a conversation could be heard from the elevator shaft. "10-97 the receptionist notified that the suspects are staying in La Quinta Inn. 10-12 they haven't checked out. Calling for back up, does anyone copy?"

They all gaped at each other and bolted down the other end of the hallway and swerved to the right to the emergency staircase. Their suitcases were dragged down the steps boisterously while their backpacks hammered against their backs during their quick adventure down five flights of stairs.

Then they bulldozed through the back entrance of the hotel and scattered towards the black, slick car at their disposal. After dropping their luggages in the trunk and hopping in the back seats, they were guaranteed to be on their flight to Minnesota to start a new life.

Again.