The back door opened and the huge guy dragged me out of the car, around the back of their van. They threw me in and I landed on top of two men in suits, beaten to a bloody pulp and restrained, though they were as still as the dead.
The doors closed and, seconds later, the van left at high speed.
Sarina
“Don’t worry so much,” said Millie. “You’ve been killing it in the assignments, you can afford to have a shitty test.”
“Yeah.”
I put my bottle of water into the mini-fridge in our dorm floor kitchenette. Tests were never going to be my forte, when I was only getting such good grades on the assignments because the police department outsourced them for me.
This was especially true given how little time I’d spent keeping up with that aspect of my persona, in comparison with the time I’d spent with Ryan. Not to mention how little I cared about my commerce degree. The charade would be over soon.
Last night, I was within a hair’s breadth of telling Ryan, but every time the words were on the tip of my tongue, an image flashed through my mind. That hurt and betrayed look that would be on his face fueled what I could only describe as terror in my heart.
He might do the worst thing possible. He might not love me anymore.
So I chickened out, again, and now deflecting Millie with test worries was the only way to explain my mood. I couldn’t answer a single thing she quizzed me about at the library, no matter how much extra time we spent there.
“I’m gonna head down to the cafeteria to catch the ass-end of dinner, you coming?”
“No, I’m staying with Ryan tonight.”
“Oh, OK. See you in class tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
Millie reached up and patted me on the shoulder. “See ya.”
“Bye.”
Without a care in the world, Mille headed back to the elevator so she could extract whatever nutrients as was possible from the cardboard they called food here. I’d only taken a couple steps towards my room when my phone rang.
I dug it out of my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number and almost declined the call. I wasn’t in the mood to participate in a survey, or hear about the benefits of another cellular network, but that would have been a first on this number, anyway.
“Hello?” I said.
“Sarina!”
The voice on the other end was absolutely frantic, laced with so much panic that if I knew the caller, I certainly didn’t recognize them now. Heavy breathing partially masked the sound of yelling and thuds in the background.
“Yes… who is this?” I asked.
“It’s Shelton! You need to get out now!”
My eyes darted around. I saw nobody, but lowered my voice to a harsh whisper anyway, as my heart started to beat faster.
“What’s going on?”
“You are compromised, Sarina! A dirty fuckin’ cop ratted you out! They’re coming for you! You understand me? Get out! Run! Disappear until the dust-”
The sound of splintering wood came down the line and cut off Sergeant Shelton’s words. Less than a second later, I heard the phone clatter to the ground as several gunshots went off. People screamed and then it all went silent for a second, before all I could hear was the sound of a single set of footsteps approaching.
Two more shots were fired and then the footsteps receded into the distance, until I couldn’t hear them anymore. The blood drained from my face as I hung up.
Josiah Shelton had just been murdered, and I was next. For several seconds, I stood there frozen and unable to even think, and then I thought about Ryan. If I’d been ratted out, then what did that mean for him?
Last night, I’d been too afraid to tell him the truth. I’d told myself I was waiting for the perfect time, the perfect wording to come to me. That time and those words would never come now.
I had to disappear, or I was dead. And I only had today, tonight, one conversation, to convince Ryan to come with me. If it wasn’t already too late.
My survival instinct kicked in and I raced to my room to retrieve my gun, flicking through the contacts on my phone to Ryan’s number. I was ready to hit dial as I flung the door open.
A hand reached out, grabbed me by the collar and pulled me into the room hard, sending me falling to the floor. My phone bumped out of my hand and skidded under my bed.
I scrambled back to my feet, turning to meet my attacker as I arranged my keys in my fist to poke out between my fingers as quickly and as secretively as I could.
I saw that there were two men in my room. The one who yanked me in had his head out the door, looking both ways as if he was going to cross the street, and the other was holding a gleaming machete.
Satisfied that the hallway was clear, the first guy closed my door and stood behind the machete-wielder. I folded my arms over myself protectively, looking as meek as possible but hiding my keys.