Touch

He didn’t quite understand why he was running.  He just knew he was supposed to run.  That he was in danger.  He was running from himself.  Running from what he had made.  He was like Dr. Frankenstein, only he had no intention of ever facing his monster ever again.  There would be no going back and cleaning up this mess.  How do you change 12 years of a life?  How do you forget?  Where would he go?  What would he say? Mark stepped onto the sidewalk from his apartment building, a large bag packed ready for where ever he would end up.  It was the early afternoon and the sunlight caught his eyes and blinded him for a moment and his phone rang.  He bumped a stranger.

Eleanor shrugged off the ass hole that bumped into her.  He had a crazy look on his face as he dug out a cell phone from his pocket.  She was late for work, and this little shit was just getting in her way.  So typical of men! She huffed loudly so that the man turned and smirked sadly at her.  He reminded her of a lost puppy and she wanted to help him, but her girlfriend would never let her bring home a lost man. A puppy yes… a man no.  She smiled to herself thinking of what Lizzy’s face would look like if she were to bring home a sad man on a chain.  Her hand lightly grazed the hand of a man holding a newspaper.

Scott was reading about how the politics where so screwy these days when he felt someone tap his right hand.  He looked up to see a women dressed in a very professional suit, who laughed at something.  Scott looked around suddenly interested in what she was smirking about.  The street was full of people.  There was one guy that seemed a little out of place.  He was a tall handsome man who had a big hiking backpack and he spoke angrily into his cell phone. This was Chicago. What was he doing speaking Italian?  Scott watched this guy as he paced back and forth, his eyes never staying on one thing for more then a split second.  Scott began to make up a story for this stranger.  He was leaving town because the Italian food was bad here… From behind he felt a slight pressure as a passerby’s elbow made a line across his back.

Julie had nowhere to be.  She had just arrived in Chicago the day before and this was her first time walking around her apartment building.  She stepped up onto the curb from off the street just as a taxi zipped by.  Stopping she felt her heart starting to speed up.  What was she doing there?  The Museum job was under her, but the Louvre had turned her down three times.  She hated the French now.  She was the best damn thing to ever happen to art history.  She bumped into a man with a large backpack as he climbed into a taxi.

Mark’s hands sweat.  What the hell had he gotten himself into?  “To the University.” He had wanted to say the train station, but no.  He settled himself into the sticky leather seats of the taxi.  He breathed deeply, relaxing for the first time in six hours.  Ever since he had gotten that desperate call from her.  She told him it was over.  That they had found him and he had to leave.  Why did he even believe that woman?  She was nothing but bad luck.  And now she had just told him that she couldn’t get it from his lab.  He looked forward but his gaze was caught on the Plexiglas that separated him from the driver.  His reflection was horrible.  That’s when he saw the driver’s lips moving.  What was he saying? “Huh?”

            “You studyin’?”  The driver asked for what must have been the fifth time.

            “Oh no.  I…I am just finishing some research then I’m done with the university for a very long time.”  He hated his research but it was his life. 

            “Oh whatcha researching there son?”  This man knew nothing of him.  Who was he to assume he was so young? That he was a son?

            “I’d rather not say.” Mark said ending the conversation before it went anywhere.  He began to play with the strap of his pack.  Everything he had discovered was inside his pack.  The only thing that he had left in this life was there.  That was his life.  A stack of damn papers and a knife.  It was his journal of sorts, it was his proof of what he had done.  His life contained on paper and ink.  And today they had found him.  How had they found him here?  Why hadn’t he saved the gun from Mexico?

            The Taxi stopped and he dropped money into the driver’s outstretched hand.   He pulled his pack onto his back and started towards his lab.  His shoulder hit a young man listening to an ipod.

That was him and Tim knew it.  He smiled greedily.  His boss would be thrilled that he had spotted Mark Mathews.  He would also get paid a lot of money if he were the one who brought in proof of death.  Tim reached around to his back and under his light sweater felt the .44 semi-automatic.  Tim smiled to himself as he started to follow Mark.  He reached out and touched the lower back of a young college girl who was walking by, letting her pass in front of him.

Bethany cringed as the smiling man lightly touched her back.  She hated that habit that so many people had of touching strangers.  Looking back again she saw the man listening to his ipod and staring up the stairs that led to the chemistry research laboratories.  She hated those labs, her freshmen year she had wanted to be a doctor and had spent hours trying to figure out General College Chemistry in those labs.  She was now a music major.  Bethany made her way into grassy area in the center of campus where she was going to meet her boyfriend Blake.  From behind she felt a warm hand creep around her waist and she gave a little girly yelp.

Reaching his hand around his girlfriend, Blake turned her around as she yelped in her cute and annoying way.  “Hey precious.”  But before she could answer he kissed her hard on the lips.  He wasn’t in the mood to hear her talk much. 

Bethany leaned back from his kiss.  A smile spread across her face.  One day she would marry this man.  She just knew it.  He stood in the sun so that he had a halo on his head.  He was so cute.  “Hey there.  How have you been? Did you finish your paper?” she grabbed his hand.

Letting go of her hand Blake realized this might be the only way of getting out from hanging out with her and listening to her bitch and moan about how her TV shows sucked these days.  “No babe, I actually gotta go finish it right now.”  He lied.  Sarah’s face found its way into his mind.

            “Well you go finish it!” she said.

            He knew she would say that.  “Ok.  I will give you a call later tonight.”  He turned to walk away when he felt her hand on his shoulder.

He wasn’t getting away without a good-bye kiss! “Not so fast young man!”  Bethany leaned in and gave him a quick, passionate kiss on the lips. She pictured the big kiss at the end of any and all good chick-flicks.

Blake pulled away and said a quick good-bye.  He hated how she was so clingy.  He ran up the stairs into the science building.  Thoughts of what to say to Sarah to get her to sleep with him quickly raced through his mind.  He pulled the door open and rushed in and ran right into the back of a man standing there listening to his ipod.

“You little Shit!” Tim said as he gathered himself and watched a young kid race away without even saying sorry.  Kids weren’t that polite these days.  But of course he was a hired killer so he wasn’t that nice either.  Gathering himself he looked back to the stairwell that Mark had just begun to climb.  There was Mark looking straight at him.  Did he know?  There’s no way.  Then Mark turned and began to run up the stairs.  “Fuck.”  He said as he ran for the stairs also. 

            He hated when he was spotted.  It just meant he had to think fast and run faster.  In his mind he saw the blue-prints of this building.  Dr. Mathews had an office on the third floor and a lab right behind it.   He had to get to him before he could destroy that damn vile.  That little glass tube was worth enough to pay off USA’s debt five times over.  Tim didn’t know why but he did know his employers were very interested in having it.  His leg muscles twitched and burned as he took the stairs three at a time.  When he got to the third floor he look down the long stone corridor and saw the fifth door on the left close.  That was Mark’s office.  Tim was sure of it.  This was going to be very easy.  He went to the door and pushed it open.  There stood Mark.  Shock on his face, and sweat darkening his grey shirt.  ‘There you are Dr. Mathews.  I believe you know why I am here.”  Tim loved when he caught his victim. 

            “No! You can’t have it! I don’t even have it!” 

            “Oh is that right?  I think you are lying to me Mark.”  He noticed that Mark’s bag laid open on the floor next to the desk.  A few papers out of place on the floor around it. 

            “I’m not lying.  I don’t have it anymore.” 

            “Now doctor, I don’t want to hurt you but I will.”  He closed the distance between them in two long strides.  “Actually that’s a lie…I do want to hurt you. I want to hurt you very badly.”  He punched Mark hard in the stomach sending him back a few steps.

Mark stumbled back clenching his stomach.  He started for the knife he had stuck into the back of his pants, but then thought better of it.  He knew not to show that yet.  He needed to know what this man knew about his work.  Even though he hated it with all his being he couldn’t let this man get it, or let The Corporation get it.  “Go to Hell!  That’s the only way you will ever see it!”  He said to the man.   Mark didn’t want to have to kill this man, but if he had to, he would.  He needed to get the vile and get out of the country.

            “Oh, to Hell huh?  I think you will be there waiting for me for a long time before I ever feel those flames.”  Mark almost laughed at his come back.  Some men these days just sounded so dumb.  The man made to punch him in the face and he ducked to the left and delivered a hard right hook to the man’s ribs.  He felt a crack.

The air was suddenly gone from Tim’s lunges as he stumbled back. So Mark knew how to fight this should be fun.  He regained his balance and brought his hands up to fight this little fucker that had ruin his week.  Mark made to grab something from behind him so Tim lunged for him and knocked him to the ground.

Rolling on the ground Mark drew out his knife quickly and clumsily.  He felt the blade slice his back a little.  Damn it burned.  He looked up to see the man pulling out a gun with a silencer.  Was he an assassin?  Had the Corporation actually hired an assassin this time?  They were getting very desperate.  Rolling as the man pulled the trigger he felt wood splinters fall on his face. 

            “Now that I have your attention.” The would-be assassin began, “I would appreciate your full co-operation.”  Mark thought this man must have been new to the whole trash talking and killing scene.  He sucked at it.  You never stop to monologue!  Taking advantage of this man’s stupidity Mark drove his right foot into the man’s left knee.

Tim was on the ground grabbing at his knee.  The little shit kicked him.  As he pulled up the gun to shoot he felt Mark’s fist make contact with his right temple.

The man was slower now.  Mark had the upper hand and he wasn’t about to waste it.  He hated killing but some times it had to be done.  Holding the knife in his right hand and looking down at the man, he kicked his fallen gun away form him and said “Sorry you got dragged into this.  I don’t think they really told you who I am did they?”  He saw fear in the man’s face. He must have known he had lost.  Mark drove the knife deep into the man’s torso. 

The blade cut into Tim with ferocious pain.  He screamed out loudly and squeezed his eyes shut.  Mark had won.  But maybe not if he could just get to his gun.  He opened his eyes and he reached for his gun.

            “Oh well I don’t want you having that now do I.”  Mark said.  “If I were you I would just try to call for help. That’s all the help you have left.”  He bent down and picked up the gun and placed it in the back of his jeans.  “The silencer was a nice touch.  But like I said, you had no idea who you were trying to kill.” 

            Tim felt the knife pulsate with his beating heart.  His feet tingled and his hands were cold.  He watched as Mark went through the door that would take him into his lab.  Tim laid there on the ground with a knife in him.  He couldn’t move.  Every wince would double the pain.  It was harder to breathe now.  He thought of his son.  It was his birthday next week.  He was turning eleven.  He had bought him a baseball glove.  Tim began to cough, the tears that found their way to the floor mixed in with his blood that quickly spread across the tile.  He saw Mark return with the vile in his hand.  That was what he was dying over?  A yellow liquid? 

            “Don’t worry it was worth it.”  Mark said as he placed the vile into his bag and put the papers that had fallen out back in with it.  “It was worth it the first time I had to kill someone, too.” 

            Tim choked on the air that he tried in vain to pull into his body.  He was dying.  It was over.  Was it worth it?  As Mark walked out he saw his son’s face in his mind as the office faded to blackness.