After that night on the rooftop of the parking garage, I spent the better part of two weeks jumping from hotel room to hotel room; searching for any indication that the man I had hunted for Snow was still alive. I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was still among the living, even though I could not find a single trace of evidence to confirm my suspicions. It didn’t help that I had to keep dodging Snow and his cronies whenever I went out; and the continued delays in my search as a result of always looking over my shoulder had me almost convinced that I should just pack up my things and leave New York for good.
I had to laugh at my stubborn desire to remain in town despite all that had happened; especially because I had no idea what I would do if I actually did turn up proof that Reese was still alive. A part of me wanted to go to him and beg forgiveness for my stupidity in trusting Snow and being a part of the team meant to take him out; while another part of my mind strongly suspected that I may be walking into my own death trap if I sought him out. He had no reason at all to trust me after what I had been a part of; and I had to be kidding myself if I believed otherwise.
Still, that look he had given me before being shot down disturbed me on a shockingly deep level. From his wordless communication with me right up until the shots rang out, I could tell that we were on the wrong track when we assumed he was rogue. With that knowledge, came many questions that I doubted I would ever get the answers too. What were the reasons behind him supposedly going rogue in the first place? Had he really killed his partner, or was he simply being framed for it? Why had Mark been so willing to shoot first and ask questions later? Never before had I seen an enforcer of the law act in that manner, and Mark’s actions served to further cement my belief that there was more to John Reese than a cold-blooded killer. He had done some terrible things since leaving the CIA, but from the events that I had witnessed that night; I now had every reason to believe that there was more to his story than I had been given at the start of my dealings with Mark.
Shaking my head at the relentless thoughts bombarding my brain when all I wanted to do was sleep; I rolled out of the bed in my most recent hotel room, stretching slowly before shuffling over to my bag that was full of clothes and other necessities I had purchased the morning after the rooftop incident. I hadn’t been able to get back to the hotel room I shared with Snow, as I wasn’t entirely certain whether he would return there himself or not; so I had instead taken the rather sizeable chunk of cash that I kept on me in case of emergency and bought an entirely new set of clothes and other assorted items. I had no idea what I would do when my food supply and spare cash ran out, as I was fairly certain that Snow and company were watching my accounts in an effort to trace where I was and what I was up to. I’d just have to deal with that little problem when I came to it.
Donning a faded pair of blue jeans and a light purple sweater, I moved to peer out my window to make sure I hadn’t been located. Seeing nothing suspicious, I put on my tennis shoes and walked out the door, locking it securely behind me.
I slowly began to relax as the cool night air washed over me, and I decided maybe a late night snack would aid me in achieving sleep. I had always been odd in that way; able to sleep immediately after eating as opposed to feeling more awake. That was something that had caused my family quite a bit of amusement; and I smiled to myself as the old memories resurfaced, a pleasant change when compared to my more recent thoughts.
Moving down the street and towards a bar where they served excellent onion rings; I was distracted by the site of a young woman being trailed by a particularly seedy looking gentleman on the opposite side of the street. Having seen a similar leer in Snow’s eyes whenever he looked at me, it was fairly obvious what the man wanted, and much to my chagrin; the woman was unaware of her impending predicament, as she walked on down the street listening to headphones.
I stood there on my side of the street, trying to think of what to do next. Of course, there was always the option of simply walking on and letting her handle this herself; but I laughed at the thought, knowing that I couldn’t live with myself if I knowingly let yet another innocent person fall prey to harm. That left two options: attack the man before he got his hands on his victim, or approach her and hope that he gave up the chase at that point. I didn’t particularly want to start a fight with the man; especially since I wasn’t altogether certain that I could successfully take on his bulk without hurting myself in the process. Approaching the woman, pretending to be an acquaintance, and hoping the man would lose interest once she was no longer alone had a slightly lower risk of coming to harm myself; but the downside to that was if she perceived me as a threat, she would obviously fight; and I didn’t want to cause her undue harm as a result.
After realizing that they were almost out of my line of sight while I stood there pondering my options, I ran across the street to catch up with them; deciding that I would pretend to know the woman, and go with taking on the man if he still didn’t give up the chase after that.
“Hey!” I called out as I neared their position. My shout was lost on the woman, most likely due to her headphones; but the man took notice of my approach and held back slightly. Presuming he was perhaps considering going off in another direction, I closed the distance between myself and the woman, lightly tapping her shoulder as I slowed to a walk beside her.
“Who the hell are you?” she asked, shock at my sudden appearance showing in her features. I saw that she had made a move to her purse, likely to pull out Mace or a gun, so I hurriedly began explaining my presence:
“There’s a man who’s been following you for the past couple of minutes. You need to pretend like you know who I am, alright? I’m hoping he’ll give up once he realizes you aren’t alone.” I whispered quickly, attempting to convey to her through my words and my eyes that she needed to trust me.
A brief look of confusion flashed across her face before she said “Oh Madeline, how are you! I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first!”
Pleased that she had caught on so quickly, I turned to stand beside her, letting her loop a shaking arm through mine as we moved to walk forward. We were stopped in our tracks however, when the man who had been following her appeared in front of us, blocking our path.
“You know, I’ve always wanted to try a threesome” he said, moving towards us slowly and drawing out something that flashed dimly in the lights of the street. A knife.
I slowly maneuvered the woman so that she stood behind me before speaking to the man with all the contempt I could muster.
“You must be dreaming if you think either of us would ever get in bed with a sleazebag like you” I spat out, hoping to garner all his attention for myself so that the girl could get away.
My words had the effect I had desired, and I saw the anger flash across his face as he brought his knife up so it was level with my chest as he started to walk towards us again. I continued to back up, pushing the girl behind me; all the while analyzing my options. I had, unfortunately, left my gun back in the hotel room; so my only choice was to attempt to knock the knife out of his hands or deflect it back on him.
Taking a deep breath, I prepared to make my move when a blurry form knocked our would-be assailant into the alley beside us. Recovering quickly from my shock at the appearance of this rescuer, I turned back to the girl, and said with all the urgency I could muster:
“Run.”
She wasted no time in following my instructions, and that left me to ponder what my own next move should be. The alley had gone silent, and I cast aside all thoughts of making my way back to the hotel, as I cautiously moved forward to see if the man who had helped us was alright. As I moved deeper into the alley and my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I made out a dark figure crouched in the corner and speaking to what appeared to be thin air.
“Wishing bullet wounds healed a bit faster right about now” the figure, a male judging by his voice, said.
As I approached him, I saw that he was hunched over, breathing heavily and clutching at his side. I began to open my mouth to ask if he needed any help when he looked up at me; and the words I intended on speaking slithered back down my throat to land with a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The man looking up at me from the alley floor…the man who had potentially just saved my life was none other than John Reese.
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