On The Run

Prologue

Eleven fifty-two,

Three minutes left. All was settling and Katerina's eyes stayed trained on the front door through the hole in her floor.

Eleven fifty-four,

Sixteen ticks now,

She adjusted the straps on her bag, quickly expunging the slight wetness on the hairline of her forehead.

Three ticks,

Boom.

Eighteen,

Legally an adult.

She stood up and, with the grace she's been practicing and the memory she's strained her mind to remember, she stepped on the strongest parts of the wood flooring, silent like the sly Kat she was.

She heard Algado begin to shuffle and sniff her out. That stupid shit eater Mutt.

She reached into her bag and clasped the chicken she'd stowed in her napkin at dinner. Especially for this mutt.

As the dog caught sight of her he readied his barking but was stopped by the raised fried chicken breast in her hand.

"Sit" she commands.

He does.

She approached heedfully.

"Eh," she snapped as the dog began to bare it's ugly slovenly teeth to her. With nifty, surprisingly steady hands, slipped the key off the dogs collar and threw the chicken across the room as she bolted to the door and began to unlock the three locks on the stiff, dense door, throwing it open she tore through the streets, dodging woman and men who crowded them.

Taking ally's and keeping her navy hat low over her pale gray eyes; luminous tanned skin glistening beneath the night sky as her very old and warn black jeans frayed on the knee holes. Her tired black boots stomping their demise on the streets as her back-pack jumped along her back as she sprinted. Breathing the proper way a track star would during their most valued race.

She dipped low under a sign as she stepped onto the bus. Slamming five quarters into the coin slot, grabbing her ticket and taking a seat in the far back, keeping to herself and feigning agitation to anyone that took a glance her way.

Seven hundred and sixty four dollars she's saved since she was fifteen. For this, this flee, this vanishment.

In her bag, she concealed a small kitchen knife for any troubles her mother or father threw her way out of Russia.

She made it safely to the airport, disposing her knife in a trash can leaving a total of six pairs of clothes in her bag, that was all she needed.

"Can I see ID please" lifting up the fake ID she's managed to grab a hold of off a woman who owed her for saving her child who was choking.

"Will you you be bag claiming anything?" The woman flashed her a tight preppy smile.

Kat didn't return the forced smile, only shaking her head and the woman did more tapping on the screen.

Paying the price chopping her down to fifty bucks, Kat took her ticket "enjoy your flight Miss Jean Milani" for a second she thought the attendants smile was genuine. yeah right.

Kat had one of her distant friends create a false background on the name Jean Milani. He was a network genius and pro hacker. His only charge was a promise to keep far away from Russia.

She made it through security and spent a few more dollars on food, it's been a good three days since she's really had a satisfying meal.

"Excuse me ma'am" a man nudges Kat who jolts upward and scans the near empty area. Shit, she'd fallen asleep. how long?