So, so, so sorry this took so long for me to get back up. Good news is I will be updating this as much as possible, and will not be removing it from Wattpad again.
And I was able to get a couple more chapters written up and I am working on more. I will be doing my best to update this at least once a week. Again, sorry it took so long.
I pay the taxi driver and wait until he's driven out of sight before sprinting down the dirt path leading to the simple one-story house I'd been living in for the past few weeks.
I punched in the code on the lock and swung the door open, stepping inside quickly and relocking the door.
The house is nothing special, and it's really more a place for me to sleep than anything else. The furniture is decent and comfortable. One large couch and an armchair take up the living room. The kitchen has the bare necessities, a refrigerator and a stove, no microwave and one pot and one pan. The bathroom has working plumbing, and that's really all that matters, and then the bedroom has a bed, dresser, and closet, and then whatever else I've thrown around the room.
I make my way quickly to the bedroom and throw open the closet. I pull out the backpack on the floor and then grab the computer off the dresser and shove it inside. I grab a few folded-up sets of clothes and shove them into the backpack along with the computer. I briefly glance around the room and notice nothing else worth taking.
I make my way back into the kitchen and wrench open the cabinet doors under the sink. I pull out several bottles of lighter fluid, the kind used for barbequing, and set to work soaking as much of the house as I can.
This is a normal routine for me. I have to many people looking for me, law enforcement and otherwise, and I can't afford to leave anything anywhere that could potentially lead back to me.
But it's not as if I set fires in the middle of residential areas, or anywhere where they have the potential to continuously burn and destroy other buildings, and other people's lives. Oh, no.
Like all the houses I've chosen to temporarily live in, this one is isolated from anyone else, the area around the house is all dirt, rocks, and concrete, no dead grass, no twigs, nothing for the fire to catch on and spread. The house will burn, but nothing else will.
I dump the last of the lighter fluid in the living room and start for the front door, pausing only to grab a phone off a small table set up next to the door. I turn back around so I'm facing into the house and pull a pack of matches from the backpack.
I light it up and toss it into the house, watching as the living room and kitchen are consumed in flames. I take a step back from the sudden heat and as a final touch, I toss Agent Stevenson's awful hat into the growing flames.
I let a smile make its way onto my face.
I then turn and walk back down the dirt path leading out of here. I make it probably about a half mile from the house before I hear the sirens approaching. They get louder and louder and I watch as the fire trucks come screeching past me, not paying any attention to the girl in the T-shirt, hooded sweater, and ripped up jeans.
I continue walking, no particular destination in mind. I know I've got to rent a car, hitch a ride, or take a bus to get virtually anywhere at this point but I'm not in any hurry. With any luck, I've got a least another couple days before the FBI joins in the manhunt looking for me.
Man, I really do wish I could've stuck around on that plane to see the look on Ryder's face. But since I wish to live a long-ish life, it wasn't in my best interest to stick around.
YOU ARE READING
I can't keep the smile off my face as I take my seat on the plane. I slide my bag under the seat and lean back. I close my eyes and let a blissful smile grace my face. He said I wouldn't be able to run. As if. I'm vaguely aware of someone taking the...