Shark of Spades

Gaining Momentum

I was shaken awake the following morning. It took me longer than normal to become aware of my surroundings, to  remember how I'd checked into a cheap motel after leaving Jack at the river.

So why was he here now?

"Card, Card, you've got to wake up. Right now. I'm serious," Jack whispered urgently.

"What do you want?" I asked, blinking one eye. "I don't really want to talk to you right now."

Since I'd woken up, he let go of me, opting to pace instead. "We have to leave. Right now."

"Why?"

"Because I've got reliable information saying that Aaron went to a hospital after you shot him, and he was killed."

I was definitely awake now. "What?"

Jack nodded distractedly. "The government's had a watch on him for a while now, hoping to locate the file, but they don't know that I have it. However, they would have gotten some type of alert when he checked in.  So I think...I think that they sent someone over to check out why he was in Chicago all of a sudden, only someone from the underworld got to him first."

"That's terrible and all, but what does that have to do with me?"

"Because, Card, they never found the file because Aaron doesn't have it. I do. They'll be coming after me next."

"So what? Did you want me to wish you a nice trip?" I groaned, leaning back.

"No, Card! You have to come with me!"

"Why?" I asked. "Your file, your problem. Stop freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out. I'm exercising caution in a life or death matter."

"Whatever. What does this have to do with me specifically?"

"If they were tracking Aaron, then they probably saw him go into our apartment and saw your face when you two talked."

"So what? Since when is talking a crime?"

"Since the point when you shot him."

There was a precious moment when I was just going to drop the subject, but some OCD instinct in me had to correct, "Twice."

"Huh?"

"I shot him twice. Like I'd miss the first time point-blank?"

Jack  glared at me, clearly believing that I was failing to understand the  severity of the situatation (assumption, correct). "Look, I don't give a  damn how many times you shot him or if you got bonus points for a  double tap combo. The point is, when you shoot someone, it's kind of a  big deal. They definitely know your face, and there's a slight  possibility that they know mine."

"But you said they were shooting at you the other day. So how can't they know your face?"

He  grinned unabashedly, not looking regretful in the least. "It seemed like a good conversation transition." He ducked to avoid the pillow that  I threw at him. "Either way, they're after you more than me  because they've got your face and you've got information and  connections. They're not going to stop hunting you down until you end up like your brother, only nobody'll know you're gone but me."

Damn it. I turn 19 in 2 months. Couldn't this have been postponed until then?

But, now that I think about it, maybe this is good. Once I turn 19, I can blend into society as a woman. I'll look completely different. They'll never know it was me.

In truth, that's why I'd been saving up so much money. I needed enough to secure my future lifestyle because after I switched identities, I couldn't ever come back. A shame, too, since money is so loose in the underworld.

I sat up higher in bed, stretching and pushing the covers down to my waist.

"Oh," Jack said, turning quickly.

"What?  Is someone already here? Damn, where'd I put my gun?" I mumbled,  blindly grasping until I found it on the bedside table, where I'd left  it last night.

"Uh, no," Jack said, his voice oddly...well, if this wasn't Jack, I'd say awkward, but those two had never been placed in juxtaposition to each other as of...ever. "Just...I'll give you a moment to change."

I  looked down and found myself just wearing undergarments and a tank that  must have somehow made its way into my briefcase. I remembered checking  into the motel, double checking the locks, looking at all the available  escape possibilities, examining train and subway schedules, and undressing, grateful for once that I wouldn't have to sleep fully-clothed as with the past few nights. Ah. So that's how it happened. I shrugged, because as weird as Jack's reaction was, I didn't see a problem with it.

Still, I grabbed my briefcase from under the mattress and shrugged on the clothes I'd won the day before. I hurriedly put on my extra sunglasses and gloves. Then I walked past Jack, briefcase in hand and slipped on my shoes, opening the door and taking long strides towards the nearest  subway entrance.

"Did you think you could lose me that quickly?" he asked, grinning his old, familiar grin as he scanned the street, never  meeting my eyes, as though I wasn't allowed to see his stage personality now that I'd seen the real him.

"One can hope," I replied cooly, scanning as well. "Besides, you're bothersome. Two people are easier to track than one."

"Fair enough, but you're still not going alone."

"What if I said that I absolutely detest you? Would you leave then?"

"Nope. I'd probably say, 'I really like your eyes.' Speaking of which, why don't you take your sunglasses off more often?"

"You know why. Stop wasting my time."

"Then how about just when we're alone?"

"Are you kidding me? Just...go away."

"We already discussed the implausibility of that action occurring."

"Then recalculate."

Tired of putting up with Jack, I flagged down a passing taxi and hopped in, slamming and locking the door behind me. Meeting the driver's eyes in  the rear view mirror, I said, "Drive fast." He shrugged and stepped on the gas, leaving Jack standing by himself on the sidewalk (because yes, we garden-variety thugs use the sidewalk), or I might have seen that if I had looked back, but I didn't.

Jack and I had been associates of business for a few months. During that time, I had been aware of the danger of people coming after me. Nothing had changed from then to now.  The why didn't matter. The who didn't matter. All that I had to concern myself with was how to escape, and how to do it well, because succeeding meant survival and failure meant termination of life. Jack  wanted us to stick together for some reason, a reason that may have revolved around Evan, but staying together was illogical as it increased my chances of being caught.

Jack had once been an interesting toy. He'd been fun to play with, to analyze and observe, specifically because he separated his own personal emotions from the game of  survival, similar to me. However, as soon as he'd revealed the truth to me, his identity - his survival - had become compromised.

Jack was no longer a toy. He was now just another human being, and there were already enough of those on the earth to begin with. Why had the camps  been created, after all? So I was resigned to leave Jack behind, just like he'd left his charm behind after becoming so much more real and personal.

He was no longer a toy, and since I couldn't play with him, he had no use.

Goodbye, Jack.