A Woman's Jog Is Interrupted By A Silver Convertible

Author's Review:   When I wrote this, I was on vacation in Estes Park, Colorado over two years ago.  It's not the best scene i've ever written, and it could use some work, but this was the first non-romantic "scene" that i've ever written, and i thought it was written amazingly well for my first time.  I was also really really really into the show Alias when i wrote this.

             My mind just kept telling me to keep breathing and keep running. I was running the fastest run of my life. I could hear my sneakers smack the cement sidewalk along Appleton Road.   I could feel the heaving of my chest with every breath I took. I could hear the screeching of the tires on the silver convertible that was chasing me.   I could hear the occasional bullet that roared into the air geared at me. I needed to outsmart them… whoever they were. 

 

            I took a sharp right into the driveway of a random house and I jumped their fence into their backyard. No way could they get back there. Well, no way the car could get back there. I still kept running. Who knew who they were, what they wanted, and what they’d do to either shoot me or capture me. I didn’t know, I didn’t think about it. I needed to get away from them. I jumped random fences and ran into random yards. Finally, when I hadn’t heard any distant rattling of fences, or the crunching of grass behind me, I, then, ran back to a street. It wasn’t Appleton Road, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t be caught dead back there.   No screeching tires, no sounds of distant footsteps, no sounds of anything other than nature and my footsteps. I’m sure if someone looked out their window, and saw me, they’d think I’d just been spooked by a ghost or something. Where was I? I saw the green street sign. Iratoga Avenue it read. I was so far away from my house. I didn’t realize I was this far away. I barely knew anyone who lived in this area, except, possibly… no. No. I cannot let her harbor me. I cannot put her in any type of danger. Especially not this type of danger. 

 

            My feet were in so much pain, and my legs were burning. Even my clenched hands and arms were receiving undesirable pain. I kept going though. I kept running, kept losing track of where I was, and kept up my straining energy, all of it unconsciously. She’s the closest one to here. Where is here? Arbor Lane. Arbor Lane? No… that’s so even more out of my way than I should be! Now I don’t have a choice. I have to have her harbor me… for a little while anyway. The screeching tires again. So they didn’t follow me through the backyards. I turned to the left of the random house by me at the time. I ran through their yard, and ran into their fenceless backyard. This was a nice neighborhood. No dogs apparently, for only a few houses had fences around it. 

 

            Ok, so I'm going back to where I was, Iratoga Avenue. 29^th Street shouldn’t be too far away. That’s where Helena lived.  Helena Waterstone, my most shy, yet one of my good friends for many years. I didn’t want her to harbor me whilst this was continuing to happen to me. She’s a fragile woman. She’d crack under the pressure. She did not come into this world to deal with such troubles as random people trying to shoot her oldest friend near her house. But in this time, I have no choice. My shoes smack quickly against the pavement, and with every step, the pain becomes a slight bit more unbearable, yet I remain running. I hear the tires, but they’re not behind me. They seem to be going farther away, and then they sound a bit closer. They must not know that I’m running up Iratoga Avenue. That’s good. That’s very good. Just keep running. Just keep breathing, even though my chest is heaving, and every breath I take is a struggle. Just keep breathing. 

 

            I’ve always had a lot of stamina. Even when I was a child, I would never give up, and I’ve always admired that about myself. Oh no. The tires are getting closer. Closer. Closer. The closest mailbox in front of me suddenly got a small forceful blow to it, leaving a small round hole in it. My body explodes in fear and panic. I'm not going to make it. I can’t cut off now! I'm so close to her house! I, now, force my body to go faster. I don’t know how to shake them.   They are coming down the hill I’m climbing. I can see the silver sparkle of the sun reflecting off of the hood. They’re ready to get me. I just need to make it to the next corner, and then I’ll be home free. I heard bullet shots, but not from the silver car this time, but from a black Toyota car that’s coming up the hill near me. It hit the windshield of the silver convertible, and shattered it, however, it stayed intact, yet the convertible managed to lose control, and swerved around away from us. 

 

Out of habit, I look back at the source of the shot, only to see the car stopped beside me, and an arm coming from the backseat of the car, grabbing a hold of my shirt, and pulling me inside. My mind was racing. I didn’t know what was going on, whose car I was in, or what was going to happen to me. Everyone in the car wore suits, and looked like perfect striking gentlemen. I, on the other hand, was less graceful in my mannerisms. I fidgeted, touched everything, and got all sorts of prints everywhere on the window, from my fingers, to my forehead and nose.  

 

            The man to the left of me reached into his coat jacket, and pulled out a wallet-type thing. He faced it towards me with his hand placed in the center to avoid the flap from falling. “Don’t be scared, we’re CIA” he said really fast in the calm, monotonish type voice. Inside the wallet thingy was a shiny gold badge, and a paper that said something, but he quickly flicked the flap back up and put it back into his coat jacket. 

 

            The guy in the passenger seat turned and faced me. Apparently they were all wearing sunglasses too. “How’re ya feeling kid?”

 

            Uhh, kind of confused and in the middle of a heart attack, so, good? “I'm fine… what’s going on?”

 

            “What’s your name kid?” said the guy to the left of me. 

 

            Did I want to give them my real name? Hell no. “Helena… What the hell is going on?”

 

             “Your real name… first and last”

 

            “Helena Waterst…son. Helena Waterson” I could tell I was wearing down their patience. I’d bet if the driver weren’t driving, all three would be glaring at me. “Rebecca. Rebecca Danner.” A smirk arose on the two men’s faces. The one in the passenger seat turned around facing forward. “Now, will someone care to tell me what the hell is going on?” The car made a soft rumbling sound as it continued riding down random streets.

            “Rebecca, do you have any idea who was in that car that was chasing you?”

 

            “No…”

 

            “…We do,” His tone was strong. I could sense tension in all of them. This was serious… as if it wasn’t already when they tried to kill me, but this isn’t just some case of mistaken identity. This wasn’t a case of me being tracked. This is life altering in the most un-clichéd term of the phrase. “and they are not to be taken lightly, you understand?” I nodded, very scared, very afraid. “They are powerful, and they usually get what they want.”

 

            “What do they want from me? I don’t have anythi...”

 

            “…On the contrary you do. You don’t know it yet, but you have a lot to offer both them, and us.”

 

            “Well, let me ask you again, who are they? What do they want from me? What do you want from me? Why were they shooting me if they needed me? What is going on here?” I couldn’t take it. I had too many questions, and I’m sure they had some of the answers, but not all. This was all overwhelming. I went from being a normal 22 year old woman living in Topeka, Kansas, trying to live a successful life, so close to graduating from college, creating my own life for myself, to being chased after like I was a rabid wild dog. I have plenty of friends, a… close friend, and good relations with my parents, and, well, my life was great. I do my share of partying, but I do plenty of studying. I work for a bank and I do my job well. I’m working to pay off college, but I’m also in the market for a new apartment.   I mean, I love my friends dearly, but I need a life of my own. 

 

            This morning, I woke up, took a shower, combed my short straight blonde hair into shape, as I blow-dried it. It felt especially silky today. I walked back into my room, greeted my roommate Larissa hello, and put on my undergarments, then, slinked into my soft comfortable pink tee. The feel of the lightweight material against my newly washed skin felt wonderful. I soaked it in. Then I put on my khaki pants, brushed on some make up for today, and then looked at myself in the mirror. I'm not satisfied with my skin. It’s too pale. I’m so afraid of tanning though, so I have to deal with it. I wish there was something non-surgical that I could do to get rid of the huge mole on my neck. I do like the way the tiny mole below my left eye looks. That’s what I call my sexy mole. Overall, the shirt made my waist look particularly more in shape today. The khakis, however, did not show my smooth, thin legs. Overall, I was satisfied. Larissa, Azura, and Reilly were already sitting at the table and eating. Azura, however, just sat down with her bowl of Fruit Loops, that disgusting five-year-old chow of a breakfast. I ate with them, had a good conversation, learned that Larissa dirtied up her clean slate, and Azura has, yet a new boyfriend, and that only means, that in two days she’ll bed him, and then he’ll be yesterday’s news. Reilly has yet to find a girl he’s truly interested in since he’s roomed with us. Girls hit on him all the time because he’s absolutely fantastically gorgeous, but he’s too shy around them. It’s a wonder he actually agreed to live with us three girls when he was asked to. According to Larissa, Azura has her ways, and she knows how to use them. But since then, I’ve gotten to know Reilly, and he’s just not like that. Nothing tempts that man. How can it be that just an hour later from that moment, when I go out on my morning jog before my first class at 11 o’clock, that I would be chased by a car, shot at, and be rescued my CIA agents. 

 

            “So many questions, and so little we can answer.” Said the driver.

 

            “You must tell me. I don’t know about you, but this doesn’t happen to me every damn day.”

 

            “Get used to it. You’re their main target right now. They will hunt you until they’ve caught you, or until something, or someone new catches their eye.” I’ve never felt shear defeat in my entire life.

 

            “Now tell me what I have that you all want.”

 

            “We’ll get to it, but not right now. We must take you to our agency immediately.”

 

            “Tell me everything that you can tell me now.”

 

            “You’re in danger, Rebecca. We’re the only ones who know how to outsmart your enemies. You must fully trust us, and we’re aware of how difficult it will be for you to completely trust anyone right now that has anything to do with this mess. Once you trust us fully, we will train you, and, of course with your permission, train you as one of our own.”

 

            “So, you’re, for lack of a better word, recruiting me before the enemy does?”

 

            “You can look at it that way if you wish. I prefer thinking about your safety first, and then any chance of recruitment.”

 

            “You must tell me who they are.”

 

            “Rebecca, I don’t know if you’re ready to fully understand who they are, and what they do, and why. After all, we have yet to figure out their full concept other than to create eccentric and detailed plans to harm humanity.”

 

            “I’m ready for anything now. Just tell me. Now.” My face was burning. I was sweating, and I was getting riled up from the obvious lack of communication between me and the other occupants of the car. The man beside me looked, and nodded towards the man in the passengers seat, who returned the gesture.

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