The Hunted

Chapter 8 - Ally

My school supplies rattle around in my tattered backpack, which is just barely dangling on my thin shoulder blades. In a split second I reach up with my left hand, hoisting one of the flimsy straps back up onto my shoulder. The last thing I need is to lose my homework.

As I head up and over the hill leading to my house, something catches my attention. Dozens of flashing lights are coming from the base of the hill - at my house.

Red and blue: definitely police lights. My heart begins to race as I pedal even faster down the hill, a deep concern nagging at my insides. As I squint at my tiny house I can just make out several black cars gathered in my driveway, including the large one that passed me just moments ago.

I pull to a stop at the end of my driveway, hopping off of my bike and immediately sprinting towards the nearest police officer. "Hey!" I call, "What's going on here?"

One of the officers turns to face me. "M'am, I'm gonna have to ask you to step back. This is a crime scene."

I comply, but only partially. I take a few steps back as my eyes widen. "A crime scene?" I gape incredulously. "What kind of a crime scene?"

The officer rolls his eyes. "M'am, we can't tell you-"

"This is my house, sir. I live here with my mother," I interject, apparently gaining the attention of several other officers. They all turn to look at me, almost pitifully.

A sinking feeling takes hold in my gut. "What happened?"

A different officer steps forward. "Miss Brennan, your mother has been killed."

My heart falls into the pit of my stomach. The only word I can muster out is an exasperated, "What?"

"She called 911 herself, about an intruder. We found her here five minutes later," he continues. "I'm sorry."

"How - oh, I've gotta be dreaming," I mutter, mostly to myself. "No. . ."

I glance around my yard, my vision beginning to blur with the onset of tears. I wipe the corners of my eyes with my sleeve, clearing my vision somewhat. I stay silent until a suited man from one of the dark cars comes over, placing a hand on my shoulder. He says nothing, and I shrug his hand off.

"Can I see her? Please?" I ask, speaking slowly to keep my voice from cracking.

Unmoving, he says, "No, you cannot."

For some reason, the man gives off a suspicious vibe. I face him and ask, "Who are you? And why are all of you here?"

He wears dark sunglasses, obscuring his eyes. "We are from the CIA, Alexa. We're just here to take you with us, to a safer place."

All of you are here to take me? Doubtful, I think to myself. Then, I decide to lie. "Thanks I guess, but my aunt lives down the road. I can just go stay with her," I say, and my voice cracks. My aunt doesn't live down the road; in fact, I have no family anywhere near here. I don't even have the contact information of any of my family members.

The man places his hand back on my shoulder, and this time I don't hesitate to step back. "Alexa, it is mandatory that you go with us," he insists, and I shake my head. He takes a minute step towards me.

I begin to feel uncomfortable, like something is very off. "Look, I'm fine," I retort, and this time my voice shakes. "I'm just really shaken up right now, okay? So I'm just gonna go to my aunt's house and-"

"No, you're not," the man says, reaching into his pocket. I wait for just a second to see that he extracts a syringe, filled with who-knows what, probably a sedative of some sort. He pops the cap off, and I don't hesitate to make a break for it.

Shouting comes from behind me but I tune it out, pumping my legs as fast as they will carry me. Ally, you're an idiot! This is probably gonna get you killed! I scold myself. My heart is racing and my lungs are already burning. I expect gunshots to come flying after me as I jump on my bike and speed away, but none come. No cars are chasing me, no men come running. Nothing happens, actually.

Nothing, besides the one sentence being shouted that is enough to send chills down my spine:

"The Hunted can't run forever, Alexa!"

***