Into the Specter

Chapter 1

Breathing heavily, you turn the corner in a panic. Another view of the same damn hallway. You look behind your left shoulder and stand there waiting in the middle of the outdated hotel carpet that seems to stretch on forever.

You turn your head forward and close your eyes. It's always the same footsteps. Heavy thunks echo through the paper-thin walls.

There.

Coming from behind you. Two steps. A pause. Two steps. A pause.

Sometimes in these dreams, you try and face the person to who those steps belong. Sometimes you try running the entire time. Always, you are panicked out of your mind.

Choosing to run, you pick your feet up and continue sprinting. Sharply turning left and shoving open a door—

======================

The van jostling over a bump in the road woke you up. Noticing a crick in your neck from leaning your head against the metal, you creak open your eyes and look in front of you.

Dallas is sitting there opening another Snickers bar. When all five of you crammed yourselves and your gear into the back of this van, he had one in his mouth. No doubt he's got a couple more in his bag.
"Are they lucky or something? Always got so many of them," you say. Always have liked giving him shit for his sweet tooth.
Dallas glances up from the wrapper. He smiles and shoots you a look of amusement. "I always need at least five for a job, you know this," followed by him biting off half of the candy bar.

"Should go quick though," you sigh and close your eyes. Leaning your head back. Knowing you've still got about ten minutes to rest your eyes.

You're tired and achy, having not gotten a lot of rest on the way to Colorado. The group has been on this mission for eighteen months.
Five countries, twelve cities, and fourteen bank robberies later. You're in Colorado Springs headed to the BBVA Bank on an early Wednesday morning in February.
You can't say that you've ever wanted to go to Colorado. It's just some mountains, weed, and redneck hippies in your mind. Too cold and wild. When the group was planning this job in the van driving through the Rockies all you could think about was going somewhere without any snow.

Typically you all have spent a couple of weeks laying low from the previous job. But, urgent orders from O'Moore means you're in Colorado just five days after being in Chicago. You're not too worried about it. Relatively small town compared to all the other cities you've hit. Police should be at least ten minutes slower at responding.

Though, this is your first time having doubts about orders. Not a lot of time means rushed plans. But coming from Anton O'Moore it gets done. Your boss and uncle. Dealing in criminals for hire. Untouchable in the underground world. Built an empire with influence in countless police departments. You're convinced he's a genius. A genius with psychopathic tendencies that is. You try and brush off that feeling of uneasiness. Categorizing it as nerves like always.

This is the longest you've ever been with a group. A year and a half of pretending you don't know Dallas's real name. Your uncle doesn't usually let you both go on jobs together but apparently whatever he's searching for is important enough to need his best people for it.

Warsaw nudges your elbow with his. Frustrated that this means you've got to open your eyes, you turn your head to the right and get a view of his shoulder. The strongest man you've ever seen with a head the size of a bowling ball. Yet, he can never undo the velcro right on his pack.

"You're gonna have to do this by yourself one day buddy," you say as you sit up a bit and reach to his backpack, patting him on the arm.
In a Russian accent, he answers, "ah, yes but you have small fingers." He looks down over his shoulder to you handing him the burner phone you retrieved from the velcro pocket. A pause. "And don't call me a buddy," punctuated by a stare from his black eyes which look quite intimidating with his long brown hair.