By: Mia L. Hazlett
What was that? I heard a noise outside. I opened the door expecting to see Mark, but I only heard a car in the distance. There was a slight glimmer of the headlights through the trees, but the sound I heard before was closer. Now I could only hear the barking of coyotes blended with the crickets and various evening critters. There it was again. Someone was still here watching us.
“Hello,” I shouted into the darkness. “Hello,” I yelled louder.
I went back into the house and The Package was gone. After hunting through the house, only 500 square feet, so not that much to cover. She was nowhere. I know I heard cars, but who stayed behind? Who was watching me? Who had taken The Package again? At this point it didn’t matter. Answers weren’t what I needed. I needed to leave the country. Now.
I retrieved my passport and small stash of bills. Although I thought I would be adding 50 grand to this, my thoughts were not my current reality. Getting to Canada was the only way out of this mess . In three days, I would be a different person, in a different country, living a different life.
I pulled my van onto the road. I passed the small gated path, which went to the small creek behind my cabin. Before I could get around the bend near the cliff, I looked into the midnight trees. There was a jumping light that hopped and then disappeared. A flashlight? None of my business. I needed to get out of the country.
My eyes could not adjust to the instant light. They were in front of me and behind me. I was no longer driving my car, but overcorrecting my swerve and slamming on my brakes. I don’t know if the shattering glass came before or as my head whipped back.
I woke to pain. Mark stood over me. He held my passport and all my cash. He shook his head side to side. I tried to get up, but Mark punched me back down. I was going to die. Mark was going to kill me. These were my last moments. Oddly, I had always thought of death as a nameless end. Never did it have a name. I saw Mark load his gun as he stood on my neck. As he aimed his gun at my head, death had a name and its name was Mark.
Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett