Had some free time on my hands. Enjoy!
Life is full of road blocks and consequences.
My life in particular just seems to be a bit more difficult than most in terms of roadblocks and consequences.
The most prominent roadblocks in my life at the moment would have to be Volkov and the gang-obviously-and a particular FBI agent that has an annoying habit of tracking me down and turning up everywhere I don't want him to be.
I've temporarily solved the FBI agent problem though.
Which then brings me to the consequences in life.
To quote Newton's third law, "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." See, that's the biggest part of my problem because those opposite reactions are the consequences for the things I've done in my life.
So, it's true I could have probably avoided this particular problem by simply persuading Ryder to take me to a specific place. I could have told him it was pertinent to figuring out how to stop Volkov, but . . . I didn't.
Instead, I may have done something worse. Of course, I suppose that depends on whose point of view you're looking at this particular situation from.
For example, if one were to look at the situation from my point of view, I was in the right. I needed to get away and I needed to get away fast. And I really did not need a nosy FBI guard dog following me on my mission. So really, what happened next was completely justified.
At least, one would think so . . . until you looked at it from Ryder's point of view.
I suppose if the situation were reversed and it was me, I'd totally believe in the power of karma and my own ability to get even.
I'd also be majorly pissed off.
Which was why it was vital to my immediate survival that I got the hell out of that hotel room after zapping Ryder with a fair amount of volts from a taser and then handcuffing his unconscious form to the refrigerator door.
The ceiling fan was inaccessible.
It was also the reason that I'm forever going to be sleeping with one eye open until the day I die.
Ryder will probably do Volkov a favor and kill me for him.
All these thoughts fly through my mind as I stand on the sidewalk across from the high school and stare at the door, watching, waiting. The hood of the sweatshirt I'm wearing pulled low and I stand in the shadows of the building across the street.
I watch the two boys come out of the school, backpacks slung over their shoulders. I watch as they walk across the football field and into another building. The gym, the locker rooms.
I watch as they come back out, both of them in practice gear and each one holding a soccer ball under their arm.
My heart aches as I watch them, wanting to go over to them. To talk to them. To hug them. But I can't. So I stay standing across the street, staying in the shadows. Making sure that they can't see me.
Seeing them is a big risk, but I covered my tracks even better than usual and set up many false leads, backtracking and going in the opposite direction before finally making my way here. I made sure I wasn't followed. Sure it took me longer than I wanted to get here-over a week, actually-but I made sure I wasn't leading anyone to them.
I continue to watch both of them, each one so different from the other. I don't know what names they're going by this time. What names the US Marshals gave them. I don't care to know.
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...