I marched down the hallway, headed for the sports facility where my bike was parked. I was gettin’ out of here. I kicked the door open, narrowly missing a floppy-haired freshman. I shot him a glace, but didn’t have the patience for an apology.
Not even the brisk winter air could cool me off.
Those jerks had me pinned down. If it wasn’t for the fact that I needed to pass those classes, I wouldn’t’ve been in this mess. Actually, when you really thought about it, it was all ‘cause of my stupid non-existent immune system. To top off, I couldn’t tell anyone about this, otherwise it would risk their safety. The Red Pathways had made that perfectly clear. Stupid, just stupid.
Just one more thing to worry about. Bunch a butthead know-it-alls. Did they know how much I had to do in a day? No. That was of no concern to them. That’s all for me to figure out. To think the Three Diablos were the members of one of the deadliest Syndicate groups in North America. Oh for Pete’s sake. How ridiculous was that?!
What wasn’t ridiculous was Takahashi’s knife at my throat. My steps faltered as my hand drifted towards my neck, stomach throbbing. I could still feel the menacing presence of that knife, how vulnerable I’d been. She could’ve killed me.
I straightened, shifting my backpack, and continued walking across campus. According to the contract, I was to be a temporary member number four of the Red Pathways. More like their unwilling but willing slave and errand girl. I guess it’s complicated.
The bike ride cleared my head and gave me the time to think about what exactly was going on. The most basic deduction? I was being threatened to be in league with a Syndicate group so that my education and life wouldn’t be ruined, so they could gain access to knowledge about my housemate, Kyle Moore, who may or may not be Nightmist, a Syndicate affiliate, or potential adversary, no one’s really sure. Because rather than helping the big baddies, he was working against them. Well, that was a mouthful.
All I was trying to do was finish out college. I was tip-toeing between badger holes blind folded, and now I had been pulled into the schemes of madmen; the real-life equivalent of supervillains or superheroes, depending on your opinion. It’s the outfits, ya know.
I made a guttural noise in my throat. The Syndicate. Self-named, naturally, though I’d say if they were going for a positive image, they missed the mark. The government won’t do anything about them because, well... they basically can’t. I guess they came to some sort of agreement with the Syndicate some twenty years ago where they would stay out of each other’s business. And it’s been working so far too. But it’s a real pain in the butt for literally everyone else just trying to live.
Take my parents. Completely respectable people, maybe a bit on the reckless side (lookin’ at you Mom), but sure as heck not stupid. They had one run in with a Syndicate faction, the Iron Maidens, and it was all over for them. Their careers as lawyers were ruined, and me and my sibling’s lives along with it. Call it a tragic backstory if you want. I’d call it life.
Just ask around campus, there’ll be a lot of kids with similar tragedies. Obviously, they’re not flaunting it or wearing t-shirts that say, ‘Hey! Ask me about my childhood trauma!’ But it’s there. And life goes on, ya know—whether we want it to or not. Along the way, hopefully we find some people who are willing to make it all a little less of a burden.
And now the Syndicate had come back to mess with my life once again. And I’d let it happen.
It was frustrating, and I was worried. I longed to run away and keep running. Forget any of this ever happened. Was a college degree really worth aiding professional criminals?
I shrugged. In this world? Probably.
Well, the Red Pathways had said I’d simply be watching Kyle, whatever that meant. Maybe it wouldn’t be so annoying. I get them the information they want, complete the contract, and then bing, bang, boom. Sayonara Red Pathways. Hello freedom. And then I can run away.
Sighing, I dipped my head beneath a tree branch, keeping my balance. Running away would solve nothing. I had to do this. I couldn’t let myself give up.
By the end of the bike ride, I was a sweaty, angry mess, but at least my head felt clearer, like maybe I’d make it through this. As long as I kept taking those continuous steps towards the finish line.
Based on the smell I caught after walking through the door, my next step was taking a shower. Good thing Kyle wasn’t home yet, otherwise he’d be having a fit. His sweat never smelled, and every time he got a whiff of mine, Mr. Perfection would lose it.
As I was getting ready to hop in the shower, my eyes lingered on the sink. The blood wasn’t there anymore, but its image was now burned into my memory. One of the pieces of “evidence” the Red Pathways would probably demand out of me. I grabbed the edge of the sink and hung my head, sweaty waves of brown hair falling around my face. My grip tightened. What a mess I’d gotten myself into.
I ripped my fingers away and hopped into the shower, letting the hot water cleanse and relax me. For just a moment, everything was okay again.
After the shower, it was homework time. I settled on the floor, thinking it would be a miracle if I could even concentrate. The world might be ending, but by golly that homework was still due and that test was still happening in the morning.
A hard knock on my door jolted me awake and back into reality. Not a place I’d particularly wanted to be at the moment, but I supposed it’d have to do. I glanced at the time on my desktop. 9:11?! Shit! I’d fallen asleep and I still had twenty-five pages to read for class and an essay study guide to get started on. The knock came again, and I ripped my headphones off.
“What?!” I yelled, struggling off the floor. Ooo, I grimaced, almost falling over, legs stiff from the intense bike ride back to the apartment. Getting old is painful, don’t let anyone tell you any different. “Come in!” I called out. The door creaked open and in popped Kyle’s head. There he was; the man of the hour.
“Hey Sawyer.”
“Yeah. Hey Kyle.”
He opened the door the rest of the way and stepped in. He looked... nervous? Actually, he was probably just uncomfortable stepping into the chaos that was my bedroom.
“Whatcha need?” I asked, picking my homework off the floor.
He donned his classic uninterested-in-life’s-fascinations face. “I was just checking on you. You’ve been out of it lately, especially with you being sick and all. And it was pretty quiet in here. Who knew if you were passed out or something?” He paused. “And based on the drool marks on your face, I’d say you were.”
I rubbed the crusty bits off my cheeks with a grumpy frown. Could he be more annoying? “Thanks for the clever observation. What do you really want?”
His face twisted in irritation. “Would it kill you to be more appreciative?”
“Of what?” I shot back.
He stiffened. “I’m over here being a responsible adult, which, as I’ve said countless times, you clearly are not, and checking in to see if you were even still alive. If you die, then rent for me doubles, and that would be an inconvenience I don’t need.”
See what I mean? Daytime Kyle is an a-hole. Unmitigated provocation.
“Wow, okay. Well rest assured, my dearest housemate, I unfortunately still remain with the living.”
“Well good. And also,” he held out a hand with something in it, “a letter came in the mail for you.”
“Since when do I get mail?” I wondered aloud.
“I don’t know,” he snapped. Back to Kranky Kyle everyone! “Would you just take the darn thing. I’ve got more important stuff to do than stand here and talk to you.”
Ouch. That one hurt. “Alright, alright. Cool it.” I reached out and took it.
Kyle spun around and started out the door, but he paused, turning back, eyes firmly focused on the floor. “And there’s pizza on the stove.”
Now that got the gears in the brain turning again. Oo! Pizza!
“Don’t get your hopes up, it’s just the frozen kind,” he said quickly after a glance at my face. “I know it’s on-your-own for food tonight, but you’ve been having a rough time.” He paused. “Looks like you’re busy, so I’ll leave the extras in the fridge.”
I stood there staring at the now empty doorway for an embarrassingly long time, probably with the most weirded out expression on my face. Huh. What had my life come to? I was no longer a dedicated student. My professors were some of the most lethal people in the country. And my housemate was being nice to me. Again. I shivered and pulled my hood over my head, letting it dampen the sounds of the world.
I glanced at the plain, white envelope. Not even a stamp or return address. No one had my address except for my family, some close friends, and the school. But I had a separate mail box on campus the school used, and friends and family usually texted or called. Spam?
My stomach growled, and I snapped back to reality. Crap! I still had those twenty-five pages to read and that study guide to finish. I chucked the letter onto a pile of who knows what and sprinted for the kitchen. Just one slice of that pizza and I’d be back on track.
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