Runaway

You sluggishly plod downstairs to the kitchen and switch on the kettle. Five minutes ago, you had woken up to the loud, demanding in sound of your alarm clock. You dragged yourself out of bed and slipped on the first clothes you could grab out of your wardobe.

You are tired and definitely dont want to go to work. The kettle finishes boiling and you make yourself a cup of coffee. You take a sip and feel the warm, bitter drink flow down your throat. You sigh as you glance at your watch. No time for a proper breakfast. Still half asleep you hurriedly swallow a few more sips of coffee, grab a muffin from the cupboard and rush to the front door.

All of a sudden, you notice a pile of letters at your feet. You dont usually get mail so early in the morning. Curious, you bend down and pick up the stack of envelopes and start sorting throught them. None of them catch your interest, but as you turn the third one over and see the fourth, you feel a sudden jolt of fear erupt throughout your entire body. You have seen this signature before. You thought you would never see it again. You had hoped and prayed that it was gone forever, but here it is in your suddenly sweating hands. Your knees are tremblimg and you feel your heart beating so rapidly that you are sure it might explode out of your chest. You don't want to read the letter. You dont want to know why it is here. You want to throw it away, tear it apart, burn it to ashes. And you want to burn all your memories away with it.

You wish that you were still worrying about not being late for work. Anything, anything but this. You take a deep breathe and break the envelope open.

A small, square shaped note falls into your hand and you read the printed words:

"I know you have it. Meet me at the park at 7:30 a.m.

-RJ"

You glance at your watch. 7:23. Seven minutes. You know that he doesnt like it when anyone is late. Whoever he his. You drop the rest of the notes and run out the door, not bothering to lock it. Now you have to be on time for something else. Something more important.

While driving, you try - without succeeding - not to think about what might happen when you arrive at the park. Your thoughts drift and terrify you even more. What does he want from you? Will it really be him today, or just one of his agents? How did he find you? What is it that he knows?

You finally arrive at the park two minutes early. You climb out the car and dont need to look twice to know which person you are meant to meet. He is sitting quietly on a bench under a large oak tree. He is so silent and still that nobody seemed to notice him. He is wearing simple clothes: blue jeans and a white button down shirt. His hair is jet black, just like his hard, observant eyes. He gazes in your direction and nods. He recognizes you too, even though you have never met each other. You stroll over to the bench and sit down beside him.

For a few seconds, both of you are silent. Then he speaks, "RJ wants to know where it is."

You feel wave of nausea and close your eyes. Of course. "Where what is?" you ask, trying to keep your voice even.

The man just looks at you and his eyes tell you enough. You can't avoid this.

"Well.. um.. I dont know exactly where it is." you stutter. "I mean... Somebody gave me a sort of... Map."

He held out his hand.

"I dont have it anymore," you tell him quickly.

"Listen, just give me the map and we will leave you alone okay?"

"Forever?" you ask hopefully. "So you will never need me for anything else ever again?"

He laughs, but you can see that there is not a single trace of humour on his face. "As long as you are still part of the gang we will never be too far away."

"But I left the gang. I don't want to have anything to do with this anymore."

He looks at you fiercely, and the words he hisses send shivers down your spine. "No-one leaves the gang. No-one."

You bite your lip, trying to stop the tears that you can already feel gathering in your eyes. You have to be strong.

"Alright. Just let me fetch it from my car."

He looks at you suspiciously, then stands up and follows you. Your mind is buzzing with ideas to escape. When you reach your car, you know that you have to act fast. You open the door, jump inside and slam and lock it. You pause for only a second to smirk at the confusion and shock on his face as he realises what just happened.

He pulls on the door handle, trying not to draw attention to himself. As you fumble for your keys, he says, "No matter how far away you go, we will find you. Just give it to me now, and nobody will get hurt."

Ignoring his threats, you start the engine and drive away as quickly as you can.

Now that youre alone again, you can think. You obviously cant go back home. If the man was telling the truth, which you're sure he was, there will be a bounty on your head soon. You suppose that youre best choice is to get on an airplane. Any airplane. That is the only place where they can't track you. Suddenly paranoid, you gaze at your cellphone, sitting on the seat next to you. You had taken the tracker out long ago, on the day you decided that you didnt want anything to do with them. But now you worry that there might have been another one. One that they hadn't told you about. Without thinking twice, you grab the phone and throw it out the window. You then turn the radio on and drive for a few more minutes, trying to think about the music, and the music alone. Eventually, you pull over at a seemingly random house. You get out the car and sit on the pavement. You never thought that you would come here again. And that is understandable. Not many people would want to visit the sidewalk where they had witnessed their parents die. You take the little piece of paper out your pocket and wonder how the simple, plain drawing could have caused all this trouble.

You had tried to decipher the meaning of the so called map ever since your father had given it to you, but had never come to any conclusions. But that didnt matter now. You look at the little yellow lighter in your hands and smile bitterly. Then you place the map on the cold concrete and set it alight, watching as it disapeared to tiny ashes.

You know that you arent going home, or to the airport, or anywhere else in the world. You are staying right there. You dont move, even when it starts raining after a while, even when people begin to stare at you, even when you see that blue car pull over in front of you. You especially dont move when the four men step out the car and was towards you. In fact, you look directly at their faces, and smile.