The Hit

Chapter Ten

 "You know I could scream right now." Alissa said as we made our way to the car. The sun was coming up and people would hear her.

 "Don't do that." I said, surprising myself by the pleading tone I took. "You would be sending yourself to the grave."

 "I could just run. I don't need you." She said as we approached the car.

 "Where? How? Tell me." I questioned. She didn't respond. "Get in the car."

 "I'm not getting in the car!"

 "Get in the fucking car Alissa. We need to get out of D.C."

 "Fuck you asshole! I'm not leaving!"

 "Fine! Stay here. I won't stop you. Just know you'll only have one fucking day to live." I got into the car and started it, staring at her the entire time. I couldn't see her face through the passengers side window, just the oversized Metallica shirt. I imagined she was contemplating her options. I was considering leaving her there, granting her wish. She finally opened the door and slowly got in.

 "Where are we going?" She asked.

 "Edmonton."

 "It's going to be cold, can't we go somewhere else? If you're going to drag me around like a slave don't I get a say in where we go."

 "We could. I know someone who can help up there though."

 "Are you going to kill them too?"

 "I hope not" I said. I pulled away from the curb and drove towards the highway. I was exhausted but we had to get as far away as possible.

 "I'm hungry." Alissa said.

 I was too. But I didn't want stop before we were well out of town. I reached over Alissa's lap stretching for the glove box. She scrunched down into the seat, molding her body to the door again. I opened the glove box revealing a stash of power bars. I pulled one out and handed it to her. I grabbed one for myself as well closing the glove box.

 We drove for over two hours before stopping to get Alissa some proper clothes and a real meal. It was a risk to stop for more than a few minutes at a time still this close to home, but I felt it better for her to be comfortable. The hope was it would make things go a little smoother.

 "Remember you're Sharon now" I reminded Alissa.

 She rolled her eyes. "Okay Carl." She was sarcastic but it made me smile a little. She was cute when she rolled her eyes.

 We were in the store uncomfortably long. I let Alissa pick out whatever she wanted. She didn't go overboard, getting a pair of tennis shoes, two pairs of jeans, five or six t shirts. The more intimate garments caused her face to turn red. I was too focused on scanning the store patrons to pay much attention to what she was picking out. The shopping spree seamed to make her a little happier. She had picked up perfume at one point, a small smile cracked her lips when I didn't object. A mediocre burger, soggy fries and a milkshake later and we were back on the road. 

 "Don't look" Alissa said, pulling one of the t shirts from the shopping bag. Easier said than done I thought. But I said nothing and stared at the road. Out of my periphery I could see her changing, it felt like we had driven twenty miles by the time she was done. She didn't say anything, just leaned back into the door that I could swear was starting to take the shape of her body, like a couch that molds itself to a frequent occupant.

 "Are you always this quiet?" Alissa inquired a few minutes later.

 "Are you?" I quipped back.

 "No, not normally."

 "I suppose I am normally pretty quiet" I replied, happy to be having a conversation about something other than the danger we were in. As awkward as it was it felt pretty good.

 "You are a loner aren't you?"

 "Umm... I have some friends."

 "You said Gerald was your friend. You didn't seem to have a hard time killing him."

 Well, that didn't last long. The conversation turning back to the situation at hand. It was all we had in common, all we knew of each other. I shouldn't have been surprised. "It was hard."

 "It didn't look like it." She retorted, condescension in her tone.

 "No, I don't guess it did. Killing is... was my job." A feeling of shame washed over me as I said it.

 "How did you end up that way?"

 "It's all I have ever done" I said. "I enlisted in the Army when I was eighteen. I spent seven years training to, and ultimately killing the enemy."

 "That's a lot different than trying to kill me" she rightfully pointed out. "You're like what? A hitman or something?"

 "After I left the Army I was approached by someone who offered me a lot of money to kill a bad guy. I figured it would be easy for me to do. They said if I did it to their liking I would get more opportunities and the money would get better. So I did it, and then never quit, until now."

 A quiet "Hmm" was her only reply.

 "What about you?" I asked. "You were going to school, political science right?"

 "You know an awful lot about me" she said.

 "It was part of the job."

 "I don't see how you needed to know all that to kill me."

 "I guess you're right. Is that how you met Thomas Cassil, an internship or something like that?"

 "Sort of. I wasn't his intern, but his office was close to mine. I used to go out with some other interns. We met returning from lunch one day when he stopped his in the hallway."

 "How did you end up... you know?" I said awkwardly, hoping she didn't notice the jealousy in my voice.

 "He recognized me on the street about a little over a year ago. He asked me to go to lunch with him. I told him it wouldn't look right but he told me not to worry about it. So I did."

 "So the app was just a cover."

 "More or less." She said, embarrassment present in the statement. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

 I said nothing in response, figuring the awkward silence was more comfortable for both of us. We needed a different car anyway. Focusing on locating one was more important. We ended up renting one in Pittsburgh. I wasn't fond of the questions I got when I asked for the sole car with Canadian plates, the reasons becoming clearer to him when I presented my alias' ID. It wouldn't have mattered if we had a car with domestic plates, but every little detail mattered and it may make getting through customs. The fact it was a British Columbia plate would be easy enough to explain away being the car was a rental.