TEN
She needed to go out. The idea hit her hard and fast and made her feel a little sick. There was a quiet sort of determination in the thought. She needed to go. There wasn't really a way around it. And she needed to do it when she knew Xander would be gone for a while.
It was the perfect time. He would be busy with Hannah and Elliott for at least an hour. It wouldn't take her more than fifteen minutes. She walked into the apartment to find the plastic container full of her belongings. She grabbed her wallet and stuffed some money into it. Slipping into her shoes, she looked over at Xander's closet of pain. Before she had even decided to do so, she was moving into it, grabbing one of the extendable batons, slipping it into the waistband of her leggings, and pulling her t-shirt down to hide it.
Finding a spare key to the front door turned out to be the biggest challenge. After rummaging around in his desk for a few minutes, she pulled out a giant key ring like the kind janitors carried, full of keys. She set out on the task of finding which one fit into the front door lock while standing just far enough into the office to not be seen by anyone on the street. When she finally found it, and without any pockets to store it, she pulled it off and slipped it inside her bra.
She walked out the front door, her head titled down, and hailed a cab. Normally, she hated wasting money on frivolous things like cab rides. But she needed to get there as quickly as possible. And she needed to not be seen.
The taxi pulled off a few blocks away from her apartment building, out front of a post office. She paid the driver and climbed out, rushing inside. She turned toward the right once inside, going to the back corner where her P.O Box was located. She rummaged in her wallet for her key, her hands shaking wildly. She was way too worked up. She needed to get herself under control.
Ellie opened the box, reaching inside, noticing the attendant at the desk watching her. She recognized him. He had been there every time she had ever gone to pick up her mail. Every two weeks. Like clockwork. She shrugged off his glance, grabbing the three envelopes. One was her check from the diner. Which, server salary being what it was, probably amounted to a whopping three dollars... if it wasn't a voided check, that is. She folded it without opening it, slipping it into her wallet. She reached for another envelope which had her P.O. Box number and address, without her name. And was sent from a town in Washington. No name. Or street address.
She ripped it open, relieved for his continued discretion. But, then again, if there was anyone in the world who knew how important it was for her secrets to be kept, it was him.
E-
Money is in the account. I prepped another bug-out bag and left it with a friend. It has all the necessary identification, clothes, snacks, and instructions for the next location. Get ready for an early summer. If you need it, call me on the burner when you're out of the city and I'll give you the address. THEN WIPE AND TOSS THE BURNER. I hope you found a Krav Maga class like I suggested. You need to practice. - K
She took a deep breath, feeling guilty for not getting into another class. He was right. He was always right about that kind of thing. She opened the last envelope, another from him, with a pit in her stomach. He never wrote twice.
E-
Where the fuck are you? I haven't heard from you in over a week. You can't miss your check-ins. If I don't hear from you in three days, I am coming to the city. - K
Ellie walked over toward the table, turning over the note and scribbling a quick reply, feeling guilty as hell. She had missed her check-in. For the first time ever. And that was unacceptable.
K-
Sorry. He found me. I have help. Will keep you posted. - E
She quickly grabbed an envelope and bought a stamp out of the machine, filling it out and dropping it into the box.
It was then that she saw the attendant still watching her. He was not just casually looking around, taking in the people. He was staring at her. She glanced at him from under her lashes, her stomach clenching tightly. Still watching her, he slowly picked up the phone. He pulled something out of his desk, looking at it as he typed in the number. She watched, horrified, as he started talking, his voice a whisper, his hand blocking his face so no one could read his lips. His head turned to her again, watching her and nodding.
Ellie grabbed her wallet and ran. She knocked into someone at the door, making him lose balance knock into the stamp machine. But she couldn't stop.
Because he was onto her. He knew about her P.O. Box. He had gotten to the post office staff. He had bribed them to call him if or when she showed up.
She had a small, precious window of time to get the hell out of there.
She took off on the street, away from her apartment, away from Xander's. She slipped the string of her wallet around her wrist and grabbed the baton in her hand, still folded in on itself. She veered down a side street, knowing if she took it down four blocks, she could turn up for three, and then take a turn to lead her all the way back to Xander's. Right after she had moved to the city, she had spent hours pouring over maps of the streets, making routes. Then she would spend the next day learning them until there was no fear of not knowing how to get somewhere. Until there were no mistakes that could be made.
"Eleanor," a voice shouted, making her heart jump into her throat. Not his voice, but Bobby's. That was just as bad. She didn't look. She knew he was behind her. She knew that his legs were longer. She kept her eyes forward, seeing the long road ahead. The buildings would get closer. There would be no side streets to turn down for a long time. No way to catch him off guard.
With only a second of hesitation, she took an unplanned route down the closest side street. It was the back alley to all the stores and restaurants on the main street. Dumpsters, piles of cardboard, and makeshift homeless huts littered it, making running awkward and treacherous. Behind her, she heard Bobby curse followed by a slamming sound. She pushed herself faster, taking the short reprieve to slip down another alley.
"He just wants to talk, El," Bobby yelled, sounding further away than he had been before.
He never wanted to talk. He wanted to punch, and kick, and stab, and choke. He wanted to kill people she loved to prove a point. He wanted to drag her down in his basement prison and almost kill her. Almost. But never do it. Because he wanted to get her well. Then do it all over again.
Ellie felt the angry words catch in her throat, pushing them away. She needed to save her breath. She needed to avoid a pointless fight that would only slow her down. She needed to run. She needed to think. She was prepared. She knew the streets. If she could just stop thinking about him and...
She threw herself down an alley to the left, a narrow space that if she threw her arms out, she would be touching both walls. She sucked in air, thanking her instincts to take up running as soon as she had left him. Stamina. She needed so much stamina to get away. She jumped over a pile of discarded shipping pallets. She heard Bobby crash into them and took the chance to slip between two buildings, running up and throwing open a door.
Inside, she pulled it closed behind her, running in through the big restaurant kitchen. Someone yelled at her as she passed, but she moved through the door that would lead her into the bar. It was the bar next door to the diner. She burst into the main room, making the men at a back table stand up, reaching inside their jackets.
She looked around for a split second, feeling unsure of herself. But he would be right behind her soon.
"Panic room," she heard a woman to her side yell. She came barreling out from behind the bar, her dark hair streaming behind her and grabbing Ellie's arm. "She needs the fucking panic room," she yelled, pulling her behind her toward the men. "Move!"
The men scrambled out of the way and the woman shoved a chair to the side, reaching into the wall and opening a hidden door. She pulled Ellie forward, slamming her into the room and closing the door behind her.
Alone, Ellie felt the cold wall against her back. She leaned forward, her hands on her knees, trying to get her breath to slow down. The bartender had said two blissful words, the only two words that were keeping her from having an absolute panic attack at being locked up: panic room. She was in a panic room.
Ellie straightened. A panic room because she was in a mafia bar.
She had never been in a panic room before. The idea had always stirred up images of tiny cinder block-type structures, barely big enough to turn around in. This was roughly the side of, well, a restaurant dumpster. The walls were painted white and there was small bench that ran along three sides of it, white boxes underneath which, she assumed, held food and water... and knowing the club owners, weapons. The door had a huge black wheel on it. To unlock when it was safe. And there was a small television screen mounted next to the door, showing the image feed from the restaurant bar.
Ellie watched in stunned silence as Bobby finally flew into the restaurant, a gash above his right eyebrow bleeding half-heartedly down his cheek. He was met immediately by four guns from the men, small black things, scary only because she knew how willing they were to use them. The female bartender came out from behind the bar, like she had been there all along, a shiny metal bat propped up against her shoulder like she was walking to the plate.
There was no sound on the video, but she saw Bobby throw his hands up, shaking his head. He was explaining. She saw his hand wave near his chest, like indicating someone's height. The men shook their heads, putting their guns back into their jackets. Vin, the owner, her savior one night... now two times, pat the man on the back, turning him and leading him to the front door.
Bobby left, looking not the least bit suspicious. The men stood around for a minute, eying the bartender, talking. But not angry. They seemed almost calm, as if it was commonplace. The bartender shook her head, looking at the main door for a minute before finally walking back toward her secret hideaway. She looked into the camera, waving around her hand in a circle. Unlock the door.
Ellie reached for it hesitantly, turning the wheel until the door clicked and slid open. The woman pushed inside, closing the door and locking it again. She still had her bat. Ellie backed up toward the back wall, her legs pressing against the bench painfully. There was no way to get sufficient distance away from her.
"Look," she said, putting her bat down, propped against the door, "I don't know what the hell you have yourself involved in, and I am not going to ask. But Xander is a good friend of mine..."
Oh, God. Oh, great. Of course. In a city of eight million people, she would get help from one of Xander's friends. Because that was just her luck.
"I'm not going to tell him," the woman said, shaking her head, watching the girl's blue eyes. "But you need to get your shit together. Be more careful. I don't want you putting him in the middle of your mess because you're being careless."
"I promise I won't do this again. I... this was stupid. I wasn't thinking," she mumbled on, feeling like she needed to talk, even if it was to the woman who looked just as comfortable holding a bat as she did holding a bottle of liquor. "I swear I will just... bug-out if I think they are onto Xander. I don't want him to get hurt because of me. Enough people have suffered already..."
The woman nodded, relaxing a bit. "Good. I'm glad to hear it. Now," she said, her face looking serious, "was that just one of..."
"Yeah," Ellie cut in quickly, looking down at her feet.
"Christ," Faith said, taking a breath. "You know how to pick 'em, huh?"
"Unfortunately," Ellie said, looking up.
"His work, I assume," she said, gesturing toward her face. Ellie nodded. And Faith nodded back. No sympathy in her expression, just a sort of understanding. "Make him pay some day for it," she said, her words more of a demand than a suggestion. "Alright. I think the coast will be clear for now. He won't want to come here. Let's just say his organization and this organization are not on friendly terms. Come on," she said, unlocking the door.
Ellie followed her out, noticing the men's eyes falling on her. Her eyes found Vin's. He inclined his chin at her, nodding slightly. But he said nothing, turning to sit back down at his table.
"They like you," Faith said in her ear as she led her toward the door. "You might have just given them a reason to go to war," she explained at Ellie's confused expression. She reached up to the coat rack next to the door, grabbing a women's black leather jacket and holding it out for Ellie to slip in. "Pull the hood up," she instructed. "Good thing you have sneakers on. It's going to be a hell of a run back to Xander's."
Ellie looked at the woman, her eyes kinder, softer. The woman who was her savior. "I don't even know your name," Ellie said, zipping the front of the jacket closed, slipping the baton in the pocket.
"Faith," she said, peeking her head out the door and looking around.
"I'm Ellie," she said, trying to look past Faith and onto the street herself.
"I know," Faith said, looking back with a small smile. "Look," she said, waiting for Ellie to look up at her, "if you need to run and you need help, you can come here. Even if I am not here, Vin will offer a car or an escort out of town. Okay?" she watched Ellie look down at her feet, uncomfortable. Like she was too prideful to accept help. "Say you will take the help if you need it," Faith encouraged, "it doesn't make you weak."
Ellie laughed, a short, self-deprecating sound. "I will come ask for help if I need it," she agreed.
"Good," Faith said, looking outside again. "Now run. Keep your head down, zigzag the streets and don't even stop for a breath until you're back at Xander's."
"Thank you, Faith," she said, meaning it more than she could express. Faith just shrugged a shoulder, stepping out of the doorway.
And then she was running again. She kept her pace firmly at "I am just out for an afternoon run" instead of "I just robbed a bank", her head ducked so she could only see a few feet in front of her. She wanted to look around, to glance behind, to make sure she wasn't being followed. They would never give up.
But, she reminded herself, they were expecting her blonde hair, her gray shirt. With the foreign jacket with the hood pulled up to cover her face, she might as well be a completely different person. She went up and down streets, backtracked, and moved forward. Her chest felt tight and heavy, her mouth dry, her legs a bit wobbly.
God, she was stupid. What was she thinking going to the post office? She could have sent a letter from anywhere. She had the address memorized. She had his number memorized. She didn't need the letters from him.
But a part of her had just gotten used to the one small piece of normalcy of hearing from the only person in the world who knew what she had been going through since leaving him. What she went through with him. K was the person who taught her more than she could have ever learned by herself, the one person who gave a damn if she was alive or not. She needed his words. Needed the cold, calculated words to keep her on track, to remind her of how careful she needed to be, to remind her that life, even a life on the run, was worth living. She needed his letters to remind her that there were people in the world who were good, who cared when there was nothing in it for them, who loved out of the pure goodness of their hearts. She needed that. More than ever. She needed the letters
She let herself have a moment of absolute terror that maybe he or Bobby would go back to that post office and find the letter she had dropped in the box. But that wasn't possible. She made sure she dropped it off inside in the main bin in the main room where all the cameras were. It was a federal offense to mess with mail. He might risk a lot, but he wouldn't take the chance of going to jail for mail fraud.
He could have paid off a worker.
But the man who had called on her hadn't looked cruel or sneaky. Maybe he had been told that she was a runaway, a wanted person. Who knew what monster she could be portrayed as. What saint he could look like when he wanted to.
Besides, the address led to an abandoned storefront. The building was falling in on itself. But the mailman dropped the mail through the slot like nothing was out of the ordinary.
They wouldn't find K. He was too good. Too cautious.
Ellie felt the tightness in her chest lessening slightly. She was on Xander's street. Her heart hammered painfully. She reached inside the jacket, feeling around in her bra for the key that had been slicing into her skin for the past half an hour. She stopped right outside the door, fumbling the lock, when the door flew open.