Wanted

Nice to Meet You

~ Chapter 4 ~

Mallie

The fear was paralyzing. My brain was screaming a million things at me all at once, but I could only stand there, trembling, watching the unknown man I was sure was going to be the last living thing I ever saw stalk toward me.

"Who do you work for?" The man reached the sidewalk on the other side of the police tape, blocking any hope of an escape.

He was standing so close, I could feel the intensity rolling off of him. Somehow, despite my fear, I was still in journalist mode. I noticed that he must have been about my age, maybe a little older. I couldn't help but wonder what awful event had happened in his life that made him want to commit terrifying crimes like the one behind me.

"I asked you a question," the man spat in my face, leaning over the tape and startling me out of my horribly-timed distracting thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I-I work for the Detroit NewsNet, sir. No one else," I stammered. "Please, if you let me go, I promise I won't say anything to Enforcement."

It was the stupidest thing I could have said. There I was, practically begging a Wanted gang member to let me walk away even though, in the back of my mind, I knew that wasn't going to be an option. My life had just changed, and it scared me to death to find myself accepting that.

The man gave a sarcastic, humorless bark of a laugh in response. "You really think I'd just stand here and let you disappear down that street, especially with you carrying that notebook of yours?"

I shook my head.

He took a deep breath, almost as if to will patience upon himself. I swallowed hard, worried sick I'd done something to involuntarily offend him.

"Ok, I think I just might believe you. You're lucky you actually look honest when you're telling the truth," he began, and I felt a short-lived spark of relief, "But, at this point, I don't give two shits about the News. My sources didn't tell me you were a Wanted. Spill."

The man lost some of the sharp edge he had in his voice at first. Now, he actually sounded borderline curious. That made me wonder if maybe, underneath all his black clothes, he wasn't as scary as he made himself out to be.

I took a deep breath. "Okay, fine," I confessed. "I've known I was telekinetic for years now. I haven't ever told anyone, not a soul - well, I guess except for you now. I didn't ask for my abilities; I just want to be normal again, and I was trying my best to pass as a regular person. I should have known it wouldn't work out." I looked down at my feet. "But really, I won't cause any trouble if you let me go," I added finally. I had to try my luck one last time.

The man sighed. "Look, it's really... unfortunate, what happened to you, I guess, but it's not my problem. I'm gonna have to -" He was cut off by the sound of sirens. Enforcement had heard the gunshot a few minutes ago and was on its way.

In the span of mere seconds, I weighed my options. I could run off on my own and remain on this guy's hit list until the rest of his gang tracked me down to finish what he started, or I could take him with me to keep both of our identities concealed. The latter seemed like the much better option.

Just as red and blue started to reflect off of the slush at the opposite end of a nearby alley, I ducked back under the yellow tape, grabbed the man's arm just long enough to let him know I intended for him to follow me, and bolted, with him hot on my heels, in the direction of my apartment.

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"Do you not have an AirMobile of some kind with you?" the man yelled.

Call me old-fashioned, but I didn't like to use all the high-tech gear available to me. I preferred to enjoy the quiet ground traffic of the city on foot and hand-write my notes as opposed to riding an AirBike or using a tablet. I was just wired that way. However, I never wished I had an AirBike with me more than at that moment. Already both of us had been running for a solid twenty minutes, and we were panting and dripping with sweat that stung our skin when the cold air grazed it.

"We're almost there," I was able to breathlessly wheeze.

I let out a relieved sigh when we rounded a corner and my apartment building came into view. As we reached the foot of the complex, I slammed on the elevator's "up" button at least 50 times before the door opened with a ding. We raced inside, slamming on the "door close" button just as many times as the last.

Once the elevator reached the fifth floor, the man and I ran down the corridor to room 509 and, after fumbling for a moment with the scan card that granted owners access to our rooms, we made it inside.

Immediately, I locked my door behind us and latched the bolt into place. I then slid down the door into sitting position, resting my head in my hands. If you had told me the day before that I would be running from Enforcement, using the power I worked so hard to conceal to save my life from a Wanted gang member, then leading that same gang member to my apartment to avoid getting arrested, I would have done more than laugh. I probably would have tried committing you to a mental hospital. But, in minutes, that had become my reality. It was all so uncharacteristic of me, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Air ended up coming out of my throat in strangled chuckles.

"I don't see how this is funny," the man huffed. "You're in serious danger."

I almost forgot he was standing there, and his irritated posture made my nervous laughter subside.

"I'm sorry," I stood up shakily, "This is all just incredibly overwhelming. I, uh, I guess make yourself at home." Not only was I getting a headache, but I was pretty sure I could never credit myself with being a good decision maker again. "What's your name, by the way?" I asked, giving up on my judgment all together.

"Matt," he replied curtly.

As far as I could tell, Matt wasn't still trying to kill me. The look in his eyes was less analytical, more passive than before.

"Well Matt, I'm Mallie. Dare I ask what I'm supposed to do now?"

"Still working on that."

I watched as Matt took in his surroundings. My apartment, though small, was the perfect size for living on my own like I did. It was all open, save for the bathroom and walk-in closet. The walls were painted a fresh, light color, and my bed was situated right under a window that looked down to the boutique shops below.

Matt stalked over to the kitchen and grabbed an apple out of the dish setting on my table. "Well, clearly I'm gonna be stuck here tonight. You mind showing me where the shower is?" A little of Matt's rough - and apparently forced - demeanor was back in his voice.

I pointed to the bathroom like an idiot, then watched his back until the door slammed closed again. It was going to be a sleepless night.

Matt ended up crashing on the floor while I, of course, attempted to achieve even a few minutes of sleep in my own bed. The next morning, immediately following breakfast, Matt pulled his dark hat back over his blondish hair and headed toward the door.

"I won't forget this Mallie," he told me as he trudged out of my apartment and back down the hallway to the elevator. Then, added as an afterthought, Matt looked back over his shoulder. "Thanks."

I was taken aback to say the least, and I opened my mouth to try to say no, thank you for not tying my dead body to a chain link fence with zip-ties, but he had already disappeared from view with the sound of the elevator heading down to street level.

"But what am I supposed to do?" I called to my empty apartment.