Runaway

Chapter 4

© Sweetslover8 2013. It is illegal to copy and/or steal.

~Uploaded September 6th, 2013

I ran as fast I could back to my house at full speed, which is somewhere close to 50 or 60 km/hr, almost double of Usain Bolt's record. Sorry about that, man. I had dumped the groceries in a ditch at the same time. Even the melon. Despite being slightly disheartened at this fact, I ran and ran and ran and didn't stop until I had reached the front door, and cursing myself for installing a double lock that would need a sledgehammer to break down. Wait a minute. I stop fumbling for my key, stepped back and kick the lock in. It broke off and door fell unceremoniously to the ground. Technically, my foot had the strength of ten African elephants. That's what my file back at the base said anyways.

I jumped over the fallen door and ran for the hall closet. I ripped the door off its hinges and reached in to grab my duffel bag. It contained everything I would need in the case of an emergency and this, my friends, was an emergency.

I ran to my room and packed a few extra pieces of clothing, even that stupid dress I wore on my date last night. Then I ran to the kitchen, packed a few bottles of water and cereal bars and finally, reached into the cookie jar in the pantry. I took out a wad of cash that was taped to the lid. Yeah, I know; there was close to $5000 taped to a jar. How cautious of me, but honestly, I wasn't concerned. Before I left the base, I had hacked into the bank system and transferred over three billion dollars to an untraceable account. There were so many firewalls and and safety measures that it would take years to crack. Probably because I got the best hacker in the world to set it up for me and was also in charge of all my fake ID. Speaking of which...

I dug around my bag and a drawer in the hall and came up with all of Corey Jackson's papers. Her birth certificate, driver's permit, bank card and all the other important things. I lit up the fireplace and once I saw a flame start, I tossed the papers and cards in there without a second thought. Corey Jackson no longer existed.

I ran through the back door and down the patio stairs to the shed. Once again, I kicked down the door. I wondered vaguely if I'd ever be able to properly open a door again after this. I leaped over the splintered door and slid across the hood to the driver's side of my non-descript black pick-up, with mud strategically placed to disguise the license plate. I shoved the bag in ahead of me, put the key in ignition and... nothing.

"No, no, no, no!", I said, feeling panic slowly rising to the surface. I pushed it back down. I was not going to panic, it's the worst thing to do in such a situation. Instead, I turned the key and tried to start it again. I had tuned it up yesterday, it couldn't be dead yet. I tried for the third time and heard the engine sputter before coming to life.

"Yes!", I exclaimed. I was about to shift gears and press the gas pedal when someone stepped through the demolished door. The person was tall, well-built and was heading straight towards me. I was reaching for the gun I always kept tucked in the back of my shorts when it said, "Corey? Is that you? What are you doing? And what happened to the door?"

Jonathan! I sighed in relief; never in my life have I ever been so glad to hear Golden Boy's voice. But I couldn't have him stay around here; he might get killed. As much as he annoyed me, I didn't want any more blood on my hands. I jumped out of the truck and rounded the hood towards him.

"Jonathan! What are you doing here?"

"Well, I came to say that I had a great time last night and to say goodbye before you left. But boy was I surprised when I saw the door torn down. What's-"

"Jonathan, listen to me", I interrupted. "I can't explain to you what's going on, but trust me when I say that you have to get out of here. Like, right now."

"Why? What-"

"Don't ask, just go. And tell the girls that I'm sorry and that they really are the best friends ever." Jonathan didn't say anything, which struck me as odd. I reached forward and squeezed his hand. "I had a nice time too." I had pegged him wrong; even though he wasn't my first pick, I really had enjoyed our date. I went up on my toes and pecked him on the cheek before turning back to the truck, which took him out of his stupor.

"Corey, where are you going?" The emotion in his voice was so clear, it was sad.

"I'm leaving, Jonathan. That's all you need to know." He opened his mouth to talk again but I cut him off. "Jonathan, you are amazing, and there is one girl out there that will be lucky to have you. But that girl isn't me." I cleared my throat and continued with the speech I had spoken to several before. "Goodbye Jonathan. I hope you have a good life."

I sat in the driver's seat, shifted gears and floored the gas pedal. The truck broke through the shed door, showering it in wooden splinters. The tires kicked up the gravel as I raced down the driveway and onto the street. I only looked back once, in the rearview mirror, and saw Jonathan on the street, waving goodbye with his blond hair flying in the wind.

I returned my focus to the road and crossed the Springfield city limits, with no idea where I was going except for away. I would cry if this was a movie. But this wasn't a movie, it has been my life for the past almost three years. And I was, once again, on the run.