Looking over your shoulder as if you were a hit on a mobster's list is not easy. When on the run from the law, you gotta protect your neck. I've been on the run for two days now. It seems that the hunger is finally setting in. My clothing has become ragged and they smell like the absence of a shower.
I can't help but to think how disappointed in me my mother would be. If only she knew the things that I've done. I hadn't seen my mother in six years. It's probably for the best. For the time that I did know my mom, I never treated her right. Last I knew she was a police officer. I have to evade getting caught because she might be an officer still and she'd know that I was a criminal. I'm glad she doesn't know me any longer.
The cops are after me because I had come in contact with a very devious lady. If I didn't take her life, I would have still had my own. The bitch had it commin' She and her friend broke into my home and stole my things just because they were women and they knew that they could get away with it. You don't see their faces in the news except for as victims. I did nothing to them and yet I was falsely accused of rape, robbery…and assault. So yeah, she deserved to die.
I'm not comfortable with this place. It's too country for my taste. I was walking up on what seemed to be the only two houses for miles.
I've been carrying a gun around for protection and I've used it multiple times. The thought of man of my stature, forced to kill for a proper meal and shower?
A beige house I walked up on, not knowing the number of residents inside. I knocked on the small house when an old bearded man opened. He stood there with a very gently bemused face.
"Can I help you sir?" The old man asked with barely open eyes
"Do you have a wife and children here?" I replied in monotone
"Nope, just me and my dog, Lucy. My wife passed away years ago."
"Then join her." I said as I slipped a pistol from my pocket "Rest in piece old man." I told him as he hardly stood on a cane. Without penitence or guilt, I ended the man's life with the silent trigger of a brass bullet. Should you weep for him? Why? Can you not see it possible that he killed more than I? Perhaps his wife passed away by his own hand. Who's to say? I dragged the man's body to what seemed like a basement and watched him tumble down the stairs onto the floor.
If he lived a good life, then I sent him to a better place. A sinful one, then he deserved to die. I slammed the door and walked around the house searching for the kitchen. I made my way into the kitchen, foraging through what little scrapples the man had. As far as food, he was no better off than I was. All that I could immediately eat was a pack of Saltine crackers
After I filled my stomach, I went scavenging through the man's clothing trying to find befitting attire. I came across a plain white tee, an argyle sweater-vest, and khaki slacks. They would have to do for now. I went into the shower and stood in the steaming hot water. As the many water droplets beat against my shoulder, I couldn't help but to think about how my life was 'til now.
It wasn't any better than the life I lead now. I may as well have been without a home. The living conditions of my house were sure to be though uninhabitable by humans, but it was my life and I enjoyed living that way. My life was fine before ruined by that woman. I couldn't figure out why, but I felt guilty in taking the woman's life, but not the life of the feeble old man. By standard, I was not what one would call, "A real man"
I was deep in thought before I turned off the shower. I didn't realize that all I did was stand there the entire time not even raising a cloth or lathering with soap. I dried my body with the previous clothing I had taken off and slipped on the new clothing.
I pulled the pistol from the left butt-pocket and slipped it into my current right pocket while swinging my finger in the trigger-loop.
After I was sure that I had done all I felt like doing, I strolled out of the front door. I was sure that the dead body was soon to be discovered. I wanted to linger in that house for as long as possible, but I had to move on.
When I walked out the door of the house, I was confronted by an obvious neighbor. The man stood at what I could barely measure as six feet
"You a friend of Steven's?" the man asked.
"Is it any business of yours?" I retorted
"Look, guy. No need to get all impish. It was just a simple question."
"If you take value in your life, then I suggest you don't bother in others' affairs."
I hated people like him… the quintessence of a nosey neighbor. They continue to pester and pester until finally… something bad happens. The man still sought answer, although how homicidal I presented myself.
"Look, guy!" The white haired man shouted while placing his hand on my shoulder, "I don't know who you are or what –" I quickly grabbed the man's four fingers and squeezed them tightly while squinting my eyes.
"Don't touch me." I advised in a monotone voice. I threw down his hand and continued walking on. As I walled, I slightly tilted my head in order to view the periphery behind me. I noticed the man take a cell phone from his pocket with an unsteady hand. I watched his lips move, but his mouth formed unfamiliar shapes, therefore unable to read his words.
Assuming that he called the cops, I removed the pistol from my pocket as I stood seven feet away from him. With striking accuracy, I embedded a brass colored bullet in the center of his skull with the swift pull of a trigger.
"That's number seven." I though as I counted the victims between today and yesterday. Two…it only took two days for me to become the monster that I am today. No, maybe it wasn't two days. All of the erectable strife I've been putting up with…all the ill-bred carelessness of humanity. This is why I am the way that I am today – and it took well over two days for it to happen.
I walked up to the man's body and patted him down for benefits. After three seconds of frisking, I found his wallet. It had a number of cards and $225 dollars cash. Before closing the wallet and slipping it into my pocket, I pulled out his I.D. and reviewed his information.
"Jason Stiles – eye color: brown – hair color: grey – height: '5 12' – weight: 178- state: Arkansas." He was forty-eight years old with hair white as snow. In these days, forty-eight years is as best as it gets.
One hour later and two miles into walking, I came up on a failing diner. I slipped my hands from my pocket after seeing a sign that read "FS Diner". I lifted my hand a pushed open the door when an attached bell beckoned the waitress.
"Take a seat, darlin'" The big breasted woman demanded in a southern accent. My face seemed to cringe upon first sight of a big boobed blonde haired woman in her sixties. It just goes to show that even the elderly try keeping up with the new generations.
"Whaddaya got?" I asked as I sat down on a stool.
"It's a diner. You figure it out." The crumple nosed woman replied. I took my two hands and rubbed them up my face and through the back of my hair in annoyance.
"Just gimmie some coffee or somethin'"
"Just! It doesn't matter, lady. I don't care!" I took out the wallet and the lady stared in my hands. She then turned her back to me and grabbed a coffee mug from a shelf. She began pouring and decided to make conversation.
"What's your name, sugar?" She asked.
"Argh! You're pissing me off, woman! Does it matter? Does anything about me matter to you? I'm gonna sit here, and you are going to try making small talk. Three minutes from now, I will walk out of this door and my existence, to you, will fade away, so why would I waste breath telling you a name that you'll probably forget in a number of seconds." The woman looked at me in flummoxes.
"Okay? So what's your story?" She asked
"Who said I had a story?" I replied
"C'mon now, sir… everyone has a story."
"But not everyone wants to tell it." The lady snickered a bit
"Looks like someone's in trouble." The woman seemed persistent on making me speak, but her efforts were ineffectual. I'm not the type to blurt my business to random strangers.
"Trouble?" I asked "How do you figure?" The woman walked closer to me and placed both elbows on the table while resting her chin on the back of her interlocked fingers.
"Well, you're the only person who's come in this next to deteriorating diner for days, you're obviously walking on foot…for miles I'd say, you have a story that you don't want to share, and the man on that I.D. picture looks nothing like you. So you're gonna talk or do I have to call the cops?"
The elderly are always the most wise and perceptive of people. I didn't want to go around killing back to back, but the woman asked for it. With a quick arm, I pulled the pistol from my left pocket. At the intervening time, the woman pulled out a sub machine gun quicker than I could even react.
"You don't get to do that, hunny." she began "Not here you don't." she continued while nodding her head left and right.
"Now you can attempt to pull that trigger, but by the tine one shell leaves the chamber, I'd have already been draggin' your body out back. So what's it gonna be, shug'? You wanna cause problems, or you wanna let me help you. Your choice." The woman was obviously skilled with a gun. I underestimated her…a fatal mistake in reality. For the first time, I backed down and didn't let pride consume me.
"Smart boy…now let me tell you a little something. Take this address. It's three and a half miles up that way." She reached in her left breast pocket and tucked a card between her index and middle finger.
"They close at around 8pm, so I suggest you hit the road now. Once you get there, mention my name to the owner. She'll know what to do. Alright then, go on. I trust you not to be causin' anymore trouble?" I ignored the woman's question and walked out the door. I was walking for around six blocks until the fact that I was in the country grew more evident. Every current of air conveyed smells of a roasting barbecue and not one car went by for that entire time.
It was another mile before I became tired of enduring the sweltering desert-like heat. It was then that a Kia Sorrento drove up on the road. I ran out to the middle of the street and the driver pressed down on the brakes before barely impacting my leg and making me fall.
"Oh my gosh!" the red haired woman exclaimed "Are you okay?" she continued while stepping from the car
"I'm fine." I annoyedly said. I stood over the heavyset five foot woman.
"Two miles that way" I said, pointing north "You goin'?" The woman nodded her head.
"Sorry, I'm heading to the freeway."
"Seventy bucks says you're not." She jumped up and snatched the money from my hand after I pulled it from the wallet.
"Let's go." She insisted. I hopped in her car and folded my arms. She sat in the driver's seat and began staring at me.
"What?" I angrily shouted
"Seatbelt, duh." I grunted and snatched the belt down. When the woman heard a click, she drove off.
"That's better. Now where to?" I slipped the card that the woman had given me from my pocket and tossed it to her side of the dashboard. She picked it up.
"Okay, 2268 Greensborough Drive. Here we go. Hey, you look a little upset. I have some books in the glove compartment if you want to ease your mind a little." I tugged the handle of the glove compartment. I pulled out a book titled Psycouvanation and began to read. I got so lost in the fantasy novel that I lost track of time. My head was deep in the book when the woman's voice said, "2268 Greensborough Drive, we're here. I wonder why there are so many cop cars around here."
I quickly lifted my head from the book and peered through the windshield
"What! Cops?" I shouted "Bitch! She set me up." The woman looked at me in bewilderment.
"Set you up? What do you mean? Are you a cr-" I interrupted her words with the touch of cold steel pressed against her temple.
"Asked no questions. Turn back." She sat frozen and stiff. "Didn't you hear me! I said drive! Do you want to die?" She turned her head to me with rutted brows and a crinkled nose.
"No." she insisted "This may be unknown to you, but I've been in this situation more than once. I know your kind. I'm not susceptible to threats of a murderer. If it's my time to go then it's my time."
When her lips ceased to move, I shot her, but not in the head, I shot her in the thigh and pushed her out the driver side door as she screamed and cried in agony. I slid over and grabbed the wheel. Before I shut the door and drove off, I looked down on the woman in pity and said,
"There…you wanna talk about fate. Okay then, we'll let fate decide. If you lay there and bleed to death, then it really is your time. Good luck."
The woman screamed for help in order to alert the police of my presence. Without hesitation, two cop cars began chasing me. I found as many corners as possible to turn so that I could better confuse them. My foot pressed down on the gas a bit heavier, causing me to breach the 110 mph mark. I evaded the police for a while. I managed to make it into the city before I came to a perpendicular intersection. There was a cop car on the left and a cop on the right. They shot the wheels of my car, rendering it completely useless. They attempted to close me in, but I rushed out of the car into a building.
"I can't keep this up for much longer." I thought while racing through the building. I quickly found the restroom of the large mall-like building that was occupied by one patron. I went in there to catch my breath and attempted to alter my appearance as much as possible. I figured that if anyone had any type of a description on me and, I would differ from it.
I took of the sweater-vest, leaving on the white tee, I cut my pants into shorts, and I slicked my hair back using water. When I was done, I calmly walked to the restroom door exit.
When I lifted my hand and pushed open the door, I found myself staring into the dark unrecognizable chamber of a gun.
"The game's over. Come with us." The wielder demanded. I was standing face to face with two officers. I quickly reached in my back pocket to draw the pistol, but my right wrist was cuffed by a man standing behind me. It turns out that the one person in the restroom too was a cop.
I kept up my cunning for as long as my brain would allow, but I knew it was a matter of time before I got caught. They began to recite my rights as they walked me out of the restroom. There were people stopping and staring, even when I went outside. An entire crowed was drawn by the time my head was ducked into the police vehicle. I stared out the window as the car pulled off and headed to the nearest police station.
When we arrived to the station, I was immediately locked up. I was supposed to be transferred downtown, but the lazy ass cops were waiting for them to come pick me up. I was placed in a holding cell that felt like an icebox. There was no bed, no chair…nothing for me to sit on. I was in the back area of the jailhouse when a silent cop with a hat came to my cell and opened it.
"What, they're here?" I asked. The cop stayed silent. It was until we reached further to the back did the cop remove the hat, revealing herself. It was then that I realized she was a woman, but not just any woman. It was my mother.
"Wait! You're." I started before interruption
"Yes, I know, but now's not the time to discuss it. I might be imprisoned because of this, but a mother can't watch her child be placed behind bars. Don't worry, I've silenced the alarms. Leave out of the emergency door to the left. I've made sure that all the others are in front."
My attitude immediately changed upon sight of her beautiful faced. No matter how messed up I am, I could never hate my mother. My love for her could never die.
"You can't do this. I won't let you get locked up for me." She placed her hand on my shoulder and smiled at me with gleaming eyes.
"Better you than me, child." A cop came rushing around the corner
"Prisoners can't be back here!" The man shouted. My mom removed her gun from her belt and shot the man in the face.
"Go!" She yelled. "With no silencer, I'm sure the entire building just heard the gunshot. Don't talk back to your mother. Just go! If we meet again in hell, then so be it." I kissed her on the cheek and ran out of the door.
"Then I'll see you in hell, mother." I thought as I escaped. I couldn't understand how she still loved me, but she did and I was glad that she had given me significant help one last time before I lost her again.
It's true that through my entire life, people have asked me what my name is, but my name doesn't matter. From now…while on the run, I will only be known as The Fugitive.