Article 7: Escape

Knock. Knock.

Click. Creak—

"Hello? Can I help you?"

A lovely middle-aged lady answered the door. She was average height with slightly wavy hair, specks of grey sprinkled throughout her brunette hair. Her eyes were dark brown and eyelashes long. For her age, she had a relatively youthful appearance. This woman was exactly Marcus' mother.

"Yes, we're with Homeland Security. We have reason to believe your son, Marcus, may be involved in terrorist activity. We would like to have you comply with us to make sure we can find him before he does anything rash."

The people that had announced themselves as Homeland agents were people from the Re-Write project. They were a pair of people under Adam's command that hadn't had much interaction with the sequence of events related to the satellite crash. However, after exhausting most of their leads as to Marcus' whereabouts, they were dispatched to interrogate Marcus' family. Damon, Hannah, and the rest were busy with other tasks at the time and wouldn't be able to go to New York for the near future. Thus, these two were dispatched to the residence of Marcus' family.

The taller person, a dirty-blonde haired man with light brown, almost amber eyes, was named Clay Jackson, but most called him CJ. Unlike Damon who was a mountain of a man, CJ was toned and not bulky. He had a princely atmosphere, to say the least, with looks that even men would acknowledge as being handsome. His height was a bit above average, at around 6 feet tall, or around 184 centimeters tall.

His partner was a short, stocky man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties. He had strawberry blonde hair, almost ginger in color. He had a bulldog-like face, and a grumpy smile to complement. He had dark brown eyes, which contrasted with his hair quite a bit and made his eyes stand out from the rest of his face. His name was Tucker Madis, and he was around 5'6", or around 168 centimeters tall, but his frame held muscles like Damon's, although he reminded people more of a toad than a mountain.

CJ was the one who answered Marcus' mom as both flashed their badges.

As soon as CJ spoke those words, Marcus' mother's face turned ashen, and she held a look of complete shock. I mean, who wouldn't be frightened or shocked when Homeland Security suddenly showed up and said your son was a suspected terrorist?

"Y-Yes, please come in. Umm...would either of you like something to drink?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"I'm good," said Tucker in a gravelly voice that sounded like the voice of a heavy smoker.

"A-Alright, then follow me. I'll lead you to the living room."

After she said this, the two of them came in as Marcus' mom shut the door behind them.

After settling down in the living room, Marcus' mother retained her worried and ashen look. She couldn't make eye contact with the two agents sitting on the sofa across from her, and she had a cold sweat accumulating on her palms.

"Umm...what has Marcus done?"

"I'm sorry, it's confidential. But, the least I can tell you is that he has stolen a government-owned weapon; his intentions for such an action are unknown," said CJ with an alluring, melodic voice.

"Oh my gosh! How did he even manage that?! Wha...What can I do to help? I don't want to see my son cause any harm to innocent people."

"I can't tell you any more than I already have, but we would like you to answer some questions. Would you be up to answering a few questions? Note, that we will be recording our conversation."

"Yes, I'm willing to help. Whatever you need, I'll try my best to help."

"Excellent. Tucker, if you would," CJ said this as he motioned to Tucker, who, in turn, brought out a typical business briefcase, which, upon opening, he retrieved a recording device and a few documents.

"First, do you acknowledge that you are aware of this recording, Misses Koch?"

"Yes, I am aware of said recording."

"Good, let's begin. First question, are there any places where you believe your son might hide out for an extended period of time without the need to use the internet, his bank account, or possibly return to a city?"

Mrs. Koch heard this question and sat there thinking for a few seconds before answering, "His father and him used to go hunting when he was younger. He should know how to hunt and forage for food in the wild, without the need to return to a city. As for a specific place that he would gravitate towards? The only place that comes to mind is the hunting cabin where the younger kids and guys in the family would go and hunt from. It is outside of Carthage to the North, close to Indian River. If you would like the route to get there, I could give it to you."

"Yes, we'd appreciate it if you did that... Another question, has Marcus contacted you in the last three weeks?"

"Not that I can recall. I don't remember his sister or father mentioning anything either. I can ask them if you would like."

"It would be much appreciated. Any bit of information helps."

This conversation went back and forth for a while, until CJ had no more questions to ask and was satisfied with the information he had received.

Turning to Tucker, CJ nodded and ended the interview.

"Thank you for your time, ma'am. It is much appreciated."

"Umm...Can I ask a question?"

"Go ahead."

"W...What will happen to Marcus if you capture him?"

"Depending on his charges, he could have as little as a few years jail time, and some fines, or he could have, at the most severe, life in prison or the death penalty. The latter case would only happen if Marcus actually used the weapon to kill someone. However, if we get to him in time, that could be prevented. The most likely sentence is ten years in prison, and being charged with a felony, which would strip him of his rights to own, possess, or use a firearm, his right to vote, and his right to sit on a jury, among other things. He won't be harmed more than the struggle he puts up and the damage he does. I can assure you that your son won't necessarily have his life in danger."

"...I understand. I hope you find him soon. I don't want to have to live in a world where my son is sentenced to death. Time in prison is better than outright death."

CJ had no comment to follow up the conversation and let Mrs. Koch stew in her thoughts.

"Well, we thank you for your cooperation. If you remember anything more, please contact this number any time," CJ concluded as he handed a business card over to Mrs. Koch.

"Yes, I will certainly do so. Please find my boy soon. I can't bear to see a future where he becomes a terrorist."

"Don't worry ma'am, we're doing everything we can. Rest easy and fret not. Now, if there's nothing more, we will excuse ourselves. Once again, thank you for your time."

"Yes, yes. Have a nice day," Mrs. Koch said as she led CJ and Tucker out the front door.

***

"What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About the information she provided. Is it reliable?"

"It should be. I hadn't pegged her as someone who would lie to us. If she was lying, she's very good at it."

"I see. Good work, Tucker."

"Hmph, whatever."

"Time to report back to HQ."

***

"So you're saying that he could basically be anywhere?"

CJ had reported to Adam about his findings from Mrs. Koch, and summarized the main details of the interview to quickly get an order as the next plan of action, before the transcript from the interview was sent to HQ.

"Yes. Apparently, he knows how to survive in the wilderness on his own. So, he could be anywhere by now. In my opinion, it will be virtually impossible to find him, since he could literally be in the middle of nowhere, miles away from a city."

"Haaaah! This sure is annoying. Go check the hunting cabin she mentioned as a first step. While it's a long shot, it doesn't hurt. And send the recording over as soon as possible, so we can add it to our database."

"Got it. Will do, ASAP."

Click—

'Haaaah, why is this so troublesome? Sometimes I wish I could go back to the days when we could just show up and turn people into swiss cheese.'

Adam had these thoughts as he felt a headache slowly creeping in from the stress as of late. The team's inability in finding Marcus had caused the displeasure of the higher ups to intensify, and the pressure on Adam to increase. His team was doing everything they could. They had almost exhausted every route to find Marcus, other than just blindly searching for him. The worst part was, even though he had tried to explain the difficulty of the situation, the executives still didn't lessen the pressure they exerted on Adam to get the situation under control.

Despite his pleas, Adam understood why they were so fixated on getting this handled. It was because the completion of the project was just around the corner. With the recent breakthrough diversifying the compatibility with a broad variance of people, it was only a matter of time before the product could be used by anyone without side effects and with a higher efficacy. The higher ups were the ones that lusted for the product the most since it would grant them power beyond influence. To put it simply, it was greed. The greed that infected people as they rose to and gained power; the executives were the ones that were the most influenced by this infection and hungered for the power this project would bring.

The confounding variable that was Marcus made the executives worried since he had already demonstrated that the product worked on him and that he could use it. If he so decided, they feared he might do something before they could take a sip of the sweet nectar that was this project. Thus, they were keen on pressuring Adam and his team into finding Marcus sooner rather than later. While Adam understood why, he couldn't help but be annoyed at them.

'Whatever, I just have to do my job and make sure my team is doing their best.'

Adam was pragmatic in the sense that he could only do his best and make sure his team did so as well. He hadn't joined the project to get involved with disputes from the organization leaders, he just wanted to do his job. Regardless, some things will always irk you, no matter how irrational or useless the reaction is.

Knock knock.

"You alright Adam?"

"Ah, I'm fine. Just a little headache."

"Do you want me to get you some Advil?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks for asking... Do you have something to report?"

"Yes. Agent Jackson and Agent Madis have submitted the interview recording. The AI has already transcribed the audio. I brought the key points in this write-up for you to review. I also came to check up on you. But, it seems like that might have been unneeded."

"Thank you. It's nice that I have a competent secretary like you. Hye-in, I'm thinking of getting off work early tonight, do you want to go to dinner with me?"

"Oh...umm...is it okay? We're kinda busy right now."

"Even when you're busy, it is necessary to take breaks so you don't burn out. If you don't want to join me, I'll go by myself. But, you're more than welcome to join me. Just tell me by 4 if you're planning to join me or not."

"Alright. Well, I'll tell you when I'm done with my work. I'm sorry if I can't go."

"It's fine, it's fine. Just make sure you relax at some point, alright?"

"Yes, thank you for your concern."

With a sheepish bow, Hye-in left the room as her hair swished and waved behind her.

'Am I losing my touch? I thought for sure she'd jump for dinner tonight... Guess you can't win every time.'

***

Around three weeks prior.

"Hah...hah...hah..."

How long have I been running? Hours? Days? Whatever...

I had escaped from that golden-mountain man some time ago, and had been running ever since.

I'm exhausted. I haven't eaten or drank anything this whole time, and I'm starting to feel lightheaded.

Shit! Not like this! I have to keep going. I don't want to end up like Harold, or worse.

Vvvvvvvrrrooooom.... Vvvvvvvvvvvrrrrrrooooom....

....? Are those cars I hear?

Finally! Yes, finally I found other people!

SHH.

I break through the bushes and am greeted with a pleasant sight. There is a highway bustling with cars going each direction.

"Hahah..." I cry out in glee. I had been wound up trying to escape, nervous that my pursuers were right on my heels. Finally, finding other people eased my nerves, feeling that I was somehow safer knowing other people were around.

I climbed the ditch beside the road and started following it. Meanwhile, I was trying something I'd only read about or heard about. I was trying to hitchhike. I was in no shape to do anything else. I needed sustenance, and I wasn't about to go back and look for food to eat and clean water to drink. It seemed easier to try and garner some good Samaritan's pity and hitchhike while mooching off of them.

Vvvvvvvrrooooom.... Vvvvvrroooom....

Cars passed me one by one. None slowed down or stopped for me. At this point, I had stopped walking since I was too tired to do even that. I was worried. I had spent a lot of time running and waiting for a ride, and the sky was gradually turning its familiar shades of red, orange, and purple. I was worried I would have to sleep the night in a roadside ditch. If that were the case, someone might even call the cops, thinking I'm a corpse or something. At that point, my fleeing would all have been for nothing.

I hoped someone would stop before sundown...and would you look at that, good 'Samaritan A' has finally arrived.

By the time someone stopped for me, the sun was just about to disappear behind the horizon. I got pretty lucky, to be honest. Not only did someone stop for me, but this dude had a whole RV to go along with him.

Screeeech. Click. Clunk.

"Hey buddy, you alright?" A middle-aged man got out of the driver's side door of the RV and approached me. I couldn't really see what he looked like, but he sounded white, and seemed around average height.

"Hah... Yeah, I just need to get some food and water. I got lost in the woods and haven't had anything to eat or drink for a while."

"Shit man, you're lucky we got to ya. We were on our way to Bakersfield... Here, let me help you up."

The man walked over to me and helped me up, lending me a shoulder to help me walk. The man brought me to the RV where he opened the side door to let me in. I carefully climbed up the stairs into the living quarters of the RV and sat down on one of the couches.

"Aaaaah..." I sighed in relief as I found comfort in the softness of the cushions on the velvet couch.

Click.

"What you want? We got plenty of water, beer, soda, whatever. We have some snacks, as well, if you want."

The man easily shared his food and drink with me. I have no idea why he would do so. Were there such kind people in this world?

"Why...?" I struggled to spit out the words that were on the tip of my dry-tasting tongue.

"...?"

"Why are you being so generous?"

"..."

Seemingly stunned by my question, the man that I could now clearly see only snorted and breathed out an understanding laugh.

"Well, my wife and I believe that if we have the opportunity to spread positivity, then we ought to. It may seem silly, but at this age, you don't care much about what others think about you."

After seeing the man, I could now clearly see his face. The man wasn't middle-aged like I'd thought. If I had to guess, he was in his late 60s. He had a wise expression on his face, along with many wrinkles. He reminded me of one of the friendly neighborhood old people that sat on their porch, people watching.

"Heh, well thanks anyway. I won't be humble in that case. I'll take a couple bottles of water and a few snacks."

"Heheh, alright young man. By the way, my name's Robert, you can call me Bob if you want. My wife upfront is named Hannah."

"Nice to meet you Bob, my name's Marcus."

We shook hands after we introduced ourselves. It almost felt like I was meeting my grandparents after not seeing them for years. It was warm and inviting.

***

"How is he?"

"He's sleeping right now, but boy was he hungry. He wolfed down a bag of beef jerky and a thing of banana chips like it was nothing."

"Heheh, what a lively boy."

"Right. He reminds me of our son in a way....Hah, well anyway. I think we should start heading out again."

"Is he fine with it?"

"Yeah. I told him that we're going to Cali, and he said he'd ride along until then. Seems like he just wants to get away from whatever he was here for."

"Well, sometimes we just want to run away from it all. Anyhow, I'll be off to sleep now, night love."

Click. Vrrrrrrrrrr. Vrrrrroooom.

Bob started up the RV and pulled onto the road as they made their way to Bakersfield, California.

***

'Hm?'

I woke up to the sound of light chatter next to me. It seems like Bob and Hannah are talking to one another.

I noticed, as I slowly opened my eyes, that the sun had risen, indicating it was at least morning.

Rubbing my eyes to get the crusty bits out, I sat up with a groggy expression on my face—what a hell of a past couple days.

I went from some random journalist from a second-rate news company to a man wanted by the federal government. To say that was a leap in status was an understatement.

After stewing in my thoughts for a moment, I focused my vision on my surroundings where I saw Hannah and Bob standing in front of a small television, watching it with hard expressions.

Why are they so seriously watching the TV? Did something happen?

I got up and stood next to them looking at the TV; I was dumbfounded by what I saw, to say the least.

"We bring you breaking news, as of 9:00AM EST, the FBI and Homeland Security have issued a joint statement as a warning to the people in Colorado and surrounding areas. A man by the name of Marcus Koch is suspected of and wanted for terrorism against the United States Government. We caution all persons in the general area, if you see this man, do not approach him, as he is considered armed and dangerous. Call law enforcement immediately if you see this man. If you believe to have seen him somewhere recently, call (555)555-5555 to inform the FBI."

"Man that's pretty crazy, he looks like your average white guy you'd see walking the streets."

"You know the saying, 'never judge a book by its cover'."

"Now, onto our next segment, 'Puppies: Aren't they just living footballs?'"

Bob, Hannah, and I stood there quietly, the only noise in the room was coming from the TV and the vehicles passing by outside.

Bob slowly turned his head and looked at me as he pointed at the TV screen, "This is you, isn't it?"

I looked at him.

What could I say? "Yes I'm a wanted terrorist"?

What else could I say? They saw the picture displayed, it looked exactly like me. Not to mention, we're in Colorado.

So, I responded with the only thing that I could, "Yes, that's me."

"..."

"..."

We stood there, again, with the TV as white noise. It wasn't until Bob had some time to ponder over his thoughts did he speak.

"You better explain yourself before I call the cops."

"..."

Haha. It turned out like this, as expected. What other response would you expect when you just found out the guy you picked up on the side of the road turned out to be a terrorist wanted by the federal government?

Sigh. I calmed myself before telling them my story. I told them what I did for work—being a journalist; why I was in Colorado—to interview patients; how I became a terrorist...

I ended up believing someone's delusion, and that delusion turned out to be reality.

I told them about the blonde gorilla, Harrison, everything that had happened to me in the past couple of days, up until the cabin. Then I told them about the "living" gas, my escape from the cabin, and subsequently what happened when Blondie caught up to me.

It was so absurd—even recalling it I scoffed at myself for its insanity.

I then ended by telling them that I escaped thereafter and found my way to the highway where they picked me up.

"..."

"..."

I guess that's the correct response to something this idiotic sounding. Bob and Hannah were staring at me like I was mentally retarded.

CIA conspiracy? No injuries despite being beaten black and blue? Some weird gas that gives you superpowers? Well, I guess any sane person would have the same reaction.

"Marcus, are you perhaps on drugs?"

"..."

Haha, yeah, any sane person would think that too, that or delusional. I responded candidly, "No I'm not. Everything I've just told you is true, whether you believe it or not."

"...Then...prove it. Prove to us that you aren't just smoking crack."

"How am I supposed to do that? It's not like I stopped to take a commemorative photograph, or anything."

"You said that gas, or whatever, gave you superpowers, right? Show us, then we'll believe you."

"..." I stared at Bob for a couple seconds. Yeah, that would be an easy way to prove myself, but there was only one small issue: I don't know how to use my powers. I explained this to Bob as well.

After a quick moment of thinking, Bob responded to me, "If that's the case, then, I have an idea. Follow me, kid."

Bob exited the RV and motioned for me to follow. When I got out, I saw the sun was gleaning over the horizon, illuminating the forest around us with a gentle light reminiscent of the coloring of a ripe nectarine. Bob had stopped at a rest stop sometime after I conked out last night. We were surrounded by a sea of conifer trees as far as the eye could see.

Bob walked into the woods abutting the rest stop, and I followed him, noticing Hannah stayed with the RV.

We walked into the woods for a good minute or so before Bob stopped and spoke to me.

"Now that we're alone in the middle of the woods, you can go crazy. You can't hurt anyone here, so do what you did with Mr. Blondie you told us about."

"You say that, but it's not like I can just do it. I was in a flustered state and was consumed by a swarm of emotions. I don't know how I did that last time, it was unintentional."

As soon as I replied Bob turned around and raised his arm, aiming it at me.

In Bob's hand was a pistol, I don't know what kind, but it was a gun nonetheless, and he had it aimed right at my head.

"W-What are you doing Bob? Please, put the gun down, we can talk about this."

"Sigh...If you can't prove yourself, you leave me no choice Marcus. You know how the US deals with terrorists, we don't negotiate."

After he said this, he cocked the gun getting ready to fire.

"O-Okay, j-just stop, and let me try, okay?"

"Sorry, not happening. I can't have you endangering my wife and I, not to mention other people. Sorry, Marcus, but this is for the greater good."

Bob lowered his finger until it hovered in front of the trigger, not yet pulling it.

"Any last words?"

"S-Stop, stop and let me try, okay? You don't have to do this, I've done nothing wrong, are you okay with killing an innocent person!?"

"If those were your last words, then have a good rest, son."

Bob slowly squeezed down on the trigger, drawing out what would be the last moment of my life on Earth.

Desperation rose. I had desperately struggled to escape the clutches of who knows what fate not even 24 hours ago to end up here. Many emotions forced their way into me: fear, regret, incredulity, betrayal, outrage. I was filled with an emotional whirlpool that sent me over the edge.

BANG!

The gunshot rang out...

"STOP!"

And the cry for mercy a moment too late...