My name is Jacob Fowler.
And I am about to die.
I've been running from not only the law, but also the gangs. Nowhere is safe for me; a marked man. Let's just say I got my hands on money that wasn't mine, then used to steal (drugs included, among other things) from both the government and the other fugitives in this city. Not very smart, I know.
I got a - well, not a friend. A source. Before I went off to skip town, he slipped me a note. Whispered into my ear, his dark words sending chills down my spine.
"Doesn't matter if you make your way to Timbuktu," he drawled. "These thugs will find you, and make sure no one else does again."
And I was gone. Headed for the streets, trying to leave this god-forsaken city, just to save my own skin. Not that I had a lot to live for, but I didn't plan on dying anytime soon.
Funny how no one does.
I had told myself to calm down; the more in controlled I seemed to be, the less of a target I would make myself. But I couldn't help it; looking over my shoulder at every turn, jumping at every sound I heard...no doubt getting noticed. It was impossible for me to blend into the crowd, even in the dead of night.
I slipped onto the subway, hopping a ride to the other side of town. There, I could make my way out.
I collapsed into the car's metal chair, shuddering. The thought that this could be my last night went through my mind, and I nearly fell off my seat.
I ran a hand through my now thinning hair; yeah, so I'm old. Kicking 43, and the added stress is already graying my brown fuzz. So what? Someone like me can still make a living off of others, and I got a hand in the drug business. But look where that got me.
I looked around the subway car - empty, excepting some teenager in dark clothes. I don't get today's generation. Piercings, black clothes, makeup. Maybe I'll skip this wacko country too.
Not that he had the piercings or makeup. Just a slightly baggy leather jacket, black skinny jeans, dark hair. Seemed pretty normal, especially with those earbuds blaring music into his head. There was something off, though. Even though I was on the other side of the car, I caught a glimpse into the kid's eyes.
Cold as ice. Black as night. Looking like they'd seen worse than I have.
He grinned at me, like the creepy cat off of Alice In Wonderland. Like he could see what I was up to. Then he turned away, nodding to his music like nothing ever happened.
I shuddered again, then pushed him from my mind. More important things to take care of.
I took out a cigarette; no one was around, and the kid didn't look like the type to tattle. Taking a nice, long pull, I allowed myself to relax for a second. Nothing like a bit 'o nicotine to soothe my nerves. I closed my eyes, exhaling a puff of white smoke.
The car rattled, jerking me back to the present. I took out the note my bud gave me before I left. It looked like a used napkin; it's crumpled white paper stained an oldish yellow. I unfolded the wad, nearly choking on my cig as I read the first two sentences.
"You know you're a marked man, and I think I found your killer. Unluckily, I don't think your assassin will let you leave alive tonight."
I grasped the edge of my chair, my knuckles going white. The kid didnt seem to notice. Struggling for air, I feel like I got the wind knocked out of me.
Part of me was angry. Why not tell me this sooner? Bastard. I looked down and kept reading.
"Sorry I couldn't get this to you earlier."
Oh.
"But I hoped I could warn you before the deed could be done. Now, your 'assassin,' as they call him, looks like a bit of an amateur. Fairly new in the business I'm guessing; it's only a kid."
I nearly laughed with relief.
"Looks to be about eighteen, but they say he knows his way around. Be careful out there, I wouldn't like losing my best pal."
By pal he meant dealer, as well as business partner. A little bit of 'I Scratch Your Back, You Scratch Mine,' kind of thing. Nothing personal in our relationship, it always comes back to business.
The subway rattled again, then slowed to a stop. I crumpled the note into my coat pocket, then walked out, the weirdo teenager right on my heels. I didn't give him a second look.
Maybe if I had, this whole thing never would have existed.
