Chapter 1: Run










    Run, she thought to herself.  Run, because there is no other choice.

    She wanted to give up.  Her lungs burned, her breaths had become short and raspy.  Her legs screamed at her to stop, and her feet had become numb.  The small backpack she carried with all of her remaining worldly belongings, one strap over each shoulder, weighed upon her like a boulder now.  But she could not stop - because she was hunted, by the very people she worked with.

    Worked with.  Not trusted, she reminded herself.

    As she exited the cleanly pruned streets of civilization, and pushed into a field of high grass, light was starting to fade, day turned to evening.  She hoped it would be enough cover to allow her to slow down a little, to catch her breath.  The loud crack of a rifle in the distance showed her otherwise.  These people were deadly accurate, and they were not playing a game.  The bullet from that rifle sliced off the top of a weed bloom just beside her head, scattering white feathery plumes all over her black clothing, and increasing her feelings of fear and urgency.  She ducked lower, hoping to be obscured even more by the weeds, and pushed herself harder.

    A howl of a train horn directly in front of her made her heart nearly jump out of her chest.  First one long wail, and then two shorter ones.  She felt hope at possibly having an escape - that was the sound of a train approaching a crossing, and she was very close to it.  Maybe if it slowed down enough, she could board it.  The second sounding of the horn was much louder.  It sounded almost close enough to touch now.

    When she emerged on the other side of the weeds, there was a neatly cut path around a set of two train tracks.  The noisy train she heard blew its horn once more as the engine passed by her.  That’s when she realized it was moving much faster than she thought.  Still, it was her only chance.

    She began running alongside the train, trying to build up enough speed to match its speed so she could jump aboard.  But it was no use - the train was moving much faster than she could run, and it was starting to accelerate.  There was no choice, she would have to take her chances and jump for it.  It’s either die now, she thought, or wait for them to catch me.

    Without a second thought, as was often her way in her previous employment, she leaped and grabbed ahold of the silver railing with both of her gloved hands.  She clung for dear life as she was torn violently from the ground.  Her shoulders, wrists, and elbows screamed from the strain, but she hung on.  The violent force swung her around, and slammed her hard against the steel blue painted wall of the train car, and she cried out from the pain.  But she still hung on, that railing being her lifeline.

    Then she fell, only a short distance to the narrow metal maintenance platform of the train car.  Still hanging on to the railing out of sheer habit, she breathed hard, an exhausted and raspy breath, trying to stem the flood of pain and emotion.  The two broke her down, and she closed her eyes to silently let tears flow at the happiness of making it to safety and still being alive.

    She didn’t even hear the door of the train cabin open.  A dark blue uniformed, hunched over and greying black man look at her in disbelief.  His presence was unknown to her until she heard him utter the first words of kindness she had heard in a long while:

    â€œOh my god,”  he said.  “Are you all right?”

    Then he turned his attention back inside the car, where he announced that he needed help, and a doctor.

    A clean-cut muscular man in a tight black tee-shirt and jeans came outside, looking concerned and confused at how this small Asian woman could have managed to board the train while it was moving.  He shuffled his way to her on the narrow platform, and offered her a hand.  She took it, and as he lifted her clear off of the platform, she grabbed ahold of his massive arm with her other hand.

    She was impressed with his strength.  Not so much because he was strong, but because he was using it for kindness, to help, rather than to show off and hurt people.  She had worked far too long with men whose only purpose was to harm people, and she was always wary of them.  He was the first man she met in a while that she didn’t feel afraid of.

    Those thoughts faded quickly once the old black man in the uniform called him ‘marshal’.  Not as in the first name, but as in U.S. Marshal Service.  In her former line of work, she had been conditioned to distrust and avoid law enforcement.  Even now as she freed herself, it still gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

    Another man with glasses stuck his head around the corner, but was apparently too afraid to go outside.  He asked the Marshal to bring her inside so he could look at her.  That man was apparently a doctor.  The old man called him ‘doctor’, anyway.

    Once inside the train, the Marshal placed her on the floor with the backpack as a pillow.  The old man closed the door and latched it, and then stood over her to watch the doctor work.  The Marshal did the same.

    â€œShe’s scratched up a bit, and I think she strained both of her shoulders,”  the doctor said.  “She is in very good physical shape, though, so she’ll be okay.  Might hurt a lot later on.”  

    He looked up at the old man.  “See if you can get her a cabin and a blanket.  She’s going to go into shock soon, and she’ll need to be warm.  Sleep will do her some good.”

    â€œWe…we don’t have any spare cabins, doctor,”  the old man whispered sadly.

    â€œI have a dual, and I’m the only one in it.  She can bunk with me.”  the Marshal said.  He looked at her and asked, “Is that okay with you?”

    Once again, the Marshal’s gentle nature betrayed his distasteful work and prevented her from being afraid.  She nodded quietly.

    â€œCome on, let me help you up,”  he said.  

    He gently took the backpack, tossing it over his own shoulder.  It looked comically small over his muscled body.  With his free arm, he allowed her to hold on to pull herself up and hold on for stability.

    â€œI’m Michael,”  he said.  “What’s your name?”

    â€œKeiko,”  she whispered, struggling to speak the single syllable word.  The doctor was right, shock was setting in.  Her teeth were chattering.

    Michael sensed that, and hurried her to his nearby sleeper cabin.  When he opened the door, she realized why he was so charitable with it.  There were two seats, one on each side, with a table in between.  Just behind and above the seats were small beds.  So they would be sleeping across the room from each other.  A large picture window gave a view of the outside, with the faint red light of a nearly completely set sun.

    Almost as soon as they arrived, the old man delivered two blankets and bottles of water, placing all of them on the table.  Michael thanked him, calling him Fred.

    Keiko immediately unfolded the two blankets - and noting that Michael already had one, she judged that the two new ones were both for her - and wrapped herself in them for warmth, curling up in the seat.  She would have gone straight to bed, but she could see the curiosity in Michael’s eyes.  He was still a U.S. Marshal after all.  There were questions floating around in his head, and he was dying to ask them.

    It wasn’t his fault, though, he lived his life as a protector of the innocent.  He saw a young woman in distress, who was being pursued, and he wanted to help.

    After an uncomfortable pause, where both of them almost knew it was coming, the first question finally was spoken.  “Who was chasing you?”, Michael asked.

    She stared at him silently at first, a look that was a mixture of a warning you don’t really want to know, and a pleading please don’t ask me that.

    But he persisted, and he wanted an answer.  She could have simply let him wait and enjoy the rest of the ride silently, but she had a powerful worry that enveloped her body in a fresh cold shiver.  Those people who pursued her would find out where the train was going, and they would track her there.  Then they would probably question, torture, and kill Michael.  And he would never know why.  He at least deserved to know that much.

    â€œThey are assassins,”  Keiko whispered.  “Professional ones.  They work for the government.”

    She watched Michael’s eyes widen as she told him that.  He didn’t expect it at all.  In fact, it looked to be the furthest thing from his mind, by his reaction.  All of the color drained from his face as he anticipated the next thing she was going to say.

    â€œThey will track me.  They will find you.  Then they will kill you.  Poor Fred, too.  Probably the doctor as well.”

    Michael swallowed hard, and thought for a moment.  “I have a field office in Las Vegas.  That’s where the train stops.  I’ll text them and have them waiting at the station when we arrive.”

    Keiko sighed.  “That will only delay them.”

    â€œWhat do you suggest, then?”  he asked.

    She leaned forward, and gave him her best icy glance, her eyes narrowed and pupils fixed upon his.  “You look into their eyes.  You see.  And you kill them before they kill you.”

    Michael knew exactly the look she meant, because he felt a palpable chill at the way she looked at him when she said that.  He swallowed hard again.

    After taking a minute or so to build his bravery back up, he finally asked her, “Were you one of them?”

    Keiko continued staring at him for a moment, but she didn’t answer that question.  Instead, she dropped her boots into the seat, took her blankets, and crawled into the sleeping space, turning away from him to sleep.

    After a short while, he gave up waiting for an answer, and went to sleep himself.  Except instead of using the sleeping space, he slept in the seat.  As she dozed off, Keiko heard that he didn’t move from his spot, and she wondered if he was keeping guard because he was afraid she might try to leave and disappear.  And she would find that she was right, because when she woke up, he was still there - and he looked to be relieved that she was, too.

    She was used to making herself sleep in a hostile atmosphere.  While she was planning her escape from her employer’s condo complex, for several weeks she had to sleep worrying that someone had found out, and would kill her while she slumbered.  When she first arrived in that very same condo, she saw the terrible people who lived there, and feared for her life and what would happen while she slept.  She was well practiced at it.

    So the worry that Michael might have more fellow U.S. Marshals waiting for her when she woke up, or being handcuffed by a suddenly suspicious cabin companion did not frighten her.  Fortunately, none of those fears were founded this time.  She woke up, turned around, and noticed Michael eating breakfast on the table between them.

    â€œWant anything?”  he asked.  He had purposely ordered way too much food in case she did want some.

    Keiko thought about turning him down flat, but then she thought about kindness again.  He probably paid for all of that food on a salary far smaller than her own.  So she slid out of the sleeping space to sit across from him, pushing her long hair into something resembling orderly.

    Without so much as a word, she took a carton of milk, a banana, and some cereal.  Normally she didn’t eat much breakfast, but she feared eating just one item would look rather rude.  The more polite and involved she tried to be, the more mercy he might have when things go south.  And they probably would.  

    Trying to appear distracted, she looked into the bowl as she slowly ate.

    â€œSince you dodged my question last night,”  he opened with, “I can only assume you were one of them, and you ran for some reason.  I guess because they were trying to kill you.”

    Keiko glanced at him for a moment before focusing her eyes back into the cereal bowl.

    â€œI get it,”  he tried again.  “You think I’m baiting you.  That I’m trying to get you to say something incriminating so I can bust you.  What if I want to help you instead?”

    She stopped eating after the fourth spoonful, and looked at him coldly again.  “You cannot help me.”

    Michael sighed sadly at how persistently she stonewalled him.  He decided to give it one more try.  “I’m kind of a sucker for a pretty girl in distress, okay?  Even one who was associated with professional assassins.  Even a girl who might be one.”

    Keiko tapped her index finger gently on spoon while she considered that for a moment.  “Can you get me off of this train before it reaches the station?”

    His encouraging smile disappeared, and it started to dawn on him just how intelligent this former assassin was.  “Um…I’m not sure.  I can talk to the conductor, see if he’ll stop short of a crossing.  I can get another Marshal to pick us up—“

    â€œNo.”  she insisted.  “Involve no one else.  You go your way, and I go mine.”

    Michael felt a little sad at the prospect of leaving her behind without really solving that mystery.  But he knew in his heart and mind that if these really were professional assassins chasing her, she was absolutely right.  He had people to protect, too.  He had to vanish from the scene just as she needed to.

    But he wasn’t getting any more information from Keiko.  So with that, he left the cabin.

    Keiko, still used to not being able to trust anyone, reached behind her and searched through her backpack.  It still contained everything she placed in it…but she wondered if Michael looked at her documents while she slept.  That’s what she would have done, after all.  Fortunately, the bag contained nothing more incriminating than her full name, a change of clothes, and some cash.

    She reached over and checked to see if Michael had a bag he left behind, and he did.  It, too, had some clothing, some personal documents.  She felt something heavy in there too, and was surprised to see that it was a 9 mm pistol.  Not loaded, of course, but the clip was nearby.  She made a point to ask him about it in the most conspicuous way possible - she snapped the clip in, and laid it down gently in the middle of the table.

    When Michael returned, he looked shocked to see his weapon sitting there.  He was at a complete loss of words.

    â€œWhat did the conductor say?”  she asked calmly, as if nothing was wrong.

    â€œI…I told him I had an emergency, and had to get off as soon as we were within the city limits.  He agreed.  Why is my—?”

    Right on cue, Keiko grabbed the gun by its barrel, and offered him its handle, encouraging him to take it.

    He took the weapon from her, and just looked at it for a moment in his hand, wondering why she wasn’t at all afraid of him holding it.  Was she really that trusting?  Or only trusting in her own skills?

    She guessed what he was thinking by the confused expression on his face, and his frozen pose, and thought explaining things might make him more cooperative.  “You did not kill me while I slept, and I did not awaken tied up.  I owe you a little trust.”

    That finally prompted Michael to strap on his gun holster and zip up his bag.  “We’ll be stopping in a few minutes.  I promised the conductor we’d be at the door when we do, to minimize disruption to his schedule.”

    Keiko nodded, and grabbed her bag as well.  She followed him out into the hallway quietly.

    â€œI’m kind of going to miss you,”  Michael said.  He quickly dug in his bag, and produced a small white business card.  “I know it’s a risk, but…when you get where you’re going, try and contact me, okay?  Just so I know you’re safe.”

    She took the card from him, and sighed sadly.  It was too risky, by all logic she should just hand it back to him and go for a clean break.  She felt bad for him, though, and could see how someone so kind would suffer if he never knew what became of her.  So she stuffed the card into her jeans pocket for later.

    As Keiko followed Michael down the narrow hallway, she had to lean against one wall to avoid being forced forward.  The train was rapidly slowing down, only in bursts instead of all at once - presumably so all the guests and items on the train wouldn’t all slide to the front of the cars.

    The train didn’t stop completely, though, it slowed to walking speed.  When they reached the door, Keiko and Michael realized they were supposed to simply step off of the train while it was till in motion.  When they did, the door closed behind them, and the train was off again.

    â€œWhat now?”  Michael asked.

    â€œI disappear,”  she said plainly, and she turned away from him and started walking.

    â€œGood luck, Keiko.  I mean it.”  He sounded a little sad as he watched her leave.

    Keiko couldn’t help but smile too, as she turned around briefly to see him wave at her once more.  She hadn’t had someone amuse her so in a long while.

    But now she was back to trekking alone.  It made her more wary, more paranoid, because she now had to re-focus on who was around her, and who might be following.  Being on a moving train was much less stressful.

    That worry didn’t last, though.  Michael was kind once again in making sure she was dropped off inside the city limits, because all she had to do was walk into a small neighborhood pub she could see from the railroad tracks with the intention of asking if she could call a taxi.

    As it turned out, she was in the city limits, but in kind of a rough area.  She walked into the pub, and noticed a clear division of two groups in the dark establishment.  There were some very loud, tattooed, scary looking men playing pool at one end.  At the bar, closer to the door, there were two people sitting there and drinking quietly, and smoking.

    â€œExcuse me,”  she asked the bartender as she approached the bar, “I need to call a taxi.”

    The bartender looked at her sideways, unsure if she was serious.  Then he picked up a phone from behind the bar, and placed it in front of her.

    â€œDo you have the number of a cab company?”  she asked quietly.

    He sighed impatiently.  “Don’t you have a smartphone?”

    She shook her head.  “I lost it.”

    Another sigh from the impatient bartender.  He picked up a ragged, ancient phone book and dropped it next to the phone.  Then he walked away, making it clear he didn’t plan on interacting with her anymore.
    
    Keiko frowned and flipped open the phone book.  Its pages looked like they had absorbed various liquids during their lifetime.  She found a taxi company that had a rather large ad, afraid that the smaller ones either wouldn’t pick her up in that neighborhood, or wouldn’t bring her as far as she wanted to go.

    â€œHi,”  she said on the phone to the cab company.  Of course, the pool-playing men at the rear of the pub decided to cheer loudly at just that moment, and Keiko had to turn away from them to hear the phone.  “I need a taxi.  I’m at—“

    She paused when she realized she didn’t have the address.  Fortunately, there were matchbooks stacked in a jar, so she grabbed one and read the address to the cab dispatcher.  They told her it would be about fifteen minutes, so she sat down.

    â€œLook, lady,”  the bartender spoke up again, “This isn’t an airport lounge.  You can either order something, or wait outside.”

    Out of sheer protest, she dropped the matchbook back into the jar as she eyeballed the bartender, and then she slid off of the barstool and walked back outside.  She didn’t like being outside again, it made her feel nervous.  Anyone could be watching her from anywhere, and she wouldn’t know it.  Fortunately, it didn’t take long for the taxi to arrive.

    With a sigh of relief, Keiko opened the back door of the taxi, and climbed in.  “Can you recommend a good hotel?”  she asked.

    â€œA good hotel, or a cheap hotel?”  the cab driver asked.

    Keiko reached into her bag, and pulled out a one hundred dollar bill.  She passed it to the driver.

    â€œOh.  A good hotel,”  he said.  “I got just the one for you.”

    â€œGood,”  she said, as she sat back quietly.

    The ride took about twenty minutes before she found herself among the mecca of neon signs, fountains, hotels, and casinos that Las Vegas was famous for.  It was kind of beautiful, and a perfect place to get completely lost to anyone trying to find her.  

    There was just one little loose end to tie up, she thought to herself, as she looked at the cab driver.  He was just pulling up to the front of one of the huge hotels.

    She took two more hundred dollar bills out of her bag, and passed them to the driver.

    â€œWhat the…?”  he asked.  “Are you crazy or something?”

    â€œNo,”  she replied.  “If anyone asks, you never saw me.”

    He didn’t say a word as he watched her get out of his cab, and then he drove away quickly.

    Still not being the trusting type, however, Keiko waited until the taxi was out of view, and then she walked to the huge hotel across the street.  If anyone manages to find that cab driver and torture information out of him, it would be wrong anyhow.

    As she entered the lobby of that hotel, and headed to the check-in desk, she realized that she had done it.  She had completely escaped from her former employers.  At least for now.