Chapter 2

  I woke up to an intense searing pain in my lower abdomen and, the sound of traffic!? Reorienting myself I saw a very familiar sight, Time Square. How could I mistake the massive LED billboards plaster everywhere, after the strange dream that was the forest I was glad to be home. Then a grim reminder of pop-up, plastered on the main screen was a picture of my face with a big wanted right next to it. Luckily I wasn't in the middle of Times Square yet in one of its many side allies, so I didn’t attract attention to myself.

  Then the pain flared up again, looking down at my abdomen I saw a bullet wound and blood. Ripping my shirt open I inspected the wound. It was a clean shot through and through, the only thing that stumped me was what caliber was used, it was too small to be 9m but that was the primary round used by NYC cops. It could have been 22, but I'm getting sidetracked.

  Taring my shirt up I made some make-shift bandages to cover my wound and followed my trail of blood back down the ally, there were bound to be people flowing it, and if I was lucky I would be able to ambush. Just as I reached an intersection of the allies I heard my luck.

  The sound of footsteps, yelling, and radio was rapidly approaching my position, putting back against the wall I shimmed up to the corner and waited. With my adrenalin spiking time started to move at an award pace, taking a deep breath I looked back to my training and chilled my nerves to get my adrenalin under control. Then I just had to wait to meet my pursuers, and around the corner, they came.

  The first person that rounded the corner was a young white man wearing an NYPD uniform, however, given how youthful and exuberant he looked I could only determine that he was inexperienced. My guess was correct as soon as he could process what was in front of him, he reached for his gun. Not a bad idea but given how close I was there was no way I was going to let him grab it. Throwing a quick strike I hit his throat causing him to stagger back. Throwing my hands forward I grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards me striking him with my knee.

  Seconds after I engaged the young cop an older-looking black man rounded the corner, he was also wearing an NYPD uniform but he had a rank signifier on his shoulder. I had run into the best scenario of a training officer and his cadet. The T.O. was fast to react as he moved his hand to the radio that was on his shoulder, but I was faster. Reaching down I grabbed the cadet's gun and pulled it on the T.O.

  My left hand was not my dominant hand, I was confident in my abilities enough to hit my target. Lining up my shot time felt like it slowed down as I squeezed the trigger. The weight on the trigger felt immense and minuscule at the same time. Yet even as I was pulling the trigger my sight never waver on my target and even became clearer. Then the pressure on the trigger released and I felt the miniature explosion go off in the gun.

  The T.O.s radio exploded into a hail of plastic, metal, electronics, and blood, as not only did his shoulder and hand got hit by the bullet. The T.O. grabbed his hand and started swearing. Swearing? Even though I just fired a gun, there was no loud ringing sound my hearing was amazing. It was so good to the point that I could make out individual conversations on the road outside the ally. How was my hearing this good?

  The T.O.s swearing pulled me back to the situation at hand. Striking the cadet in the stomach, I then swept his legs and forced him onto the ground. That should leave the cadet on the ground for a good amount of time. Working quickly I stripped the cadent of his jacket and radio then rushed over to the T.O. He was starting to recover and as I approached he looked at me with disdain on his face.

  “Why?” the man's question was filled with so much venom and vitriol that it could no longer be considered a question and more of a statement.

  My only response was to strike him in the stomach and sweep him onto his back. “sorry.” were the only words that came to me as I watched to NYPD officer roll on the ground.

  “do any officers have eyes on the suspect?” the radio in my hand buzzed to life as I made my way out of the ally. Deeping my voice “I have eyes on the suspect, he is moving north on Broadway, and I am in pursuit. There are two officers down in an ally.” turning the radio down I started moving in the opposite direction, keeping close to the side streets and alleyways of downtown NYC. Eventually, I dropped the officer jacket for a civilian one with a ballcap and medical mask.

  As I moved the radio sputtered with the occasional cattier. I tried to listen to the best of my ability but the low sound and noise pollution coming from the street made it very hard to make out what was being said. If it sounded super important I would move to an alley or an isolated area to hear it. And after about half a dozen stops I hear what I wanted to hear.

  "All units be advised, we are setting up checkpoints in a 3-mile radius around Times Square and all the bridges leading off Manhattan” This would have been a death sentence if I didn't have a way off the island. But there was one thing I needed to check before I left. But now that I have the information that I needed I dropped the radio.

  As I moved closer to where I had to check on, the police patrols became more consistent and it was becoming harder and harder to avoid them. Then I was there, the rundown motel I was staying in. It was covered with police and federal agencies. I don’t know how long it had been since that place had gotten raided but everything in that room was important.

  Dam how long had it been? I was a quarter past the ten today but if they had been there for any time over 12 hours then everything in that hotel could be considered gone. Every connection, safe house all the information in the motel could now be considered bad and burned. It didn't have every piece but it was enough that the loss of that information would be a major setback to my connections in New York. I was lucky that my connections were tight-lipped, otherwise, it could have led to a cascade failure.

  Changing my focus I made my way to the Hudson River. It had the connection that got me into New York City and a reliable way out. However, I had to move quickly because he would only be there for another hour, and I was roughly an hour away. If I missed him, he would be back in half a day. Honestly, I don’t think I could survive for that amount of time while also staying hidden from police and federal agents.

  Focusing on moving quickly and subtly I couldn’t focus on the multitude of questions that were peopling into my head. All I could do was force those question to the back of my mind and think getting answer to them later. Some of them felt mundane and would be better left forgotten, but other questions danced back and forth between the back of my mind and my focus.

  This dancing of my focus caused a few too many mistakes, and mistakes that could have been devastating. Almost walking into a police line, getting hit by two cars, one of which was a police cruiser. It was embarrassing because I would normally be more careful and avoid accidents like this. Checking my internal clock it was five minutes till eleven, meaning I was running out of time so regardless of accidents and questions I had to focus on speed.

  What felt like eight minutes later I rounded a corner and came into view of the dock. It was shortly after eleven and I could still see my ticket out of there, but along with it was a mass police. They were running a checkpoint for everyone entering or leaving the port and a tight perimeter around it so no one could sneak in or out.

  Staying back near the corner of the building I scanned the area to see if there was any way in or out. However, the police presence was bolstered with state and federal forces making a perfect perimeter. Looking past the line of people I saw countless boats from medium-sized vessels to even a small yacht, but the one was looking for was a smaller and older-looking ship. I saw it at the same time that I saw movement on it. Damit, I was too late, I needed to get on that boat.

  Saying near the corner I looked at the police perimeter to see if there were any weak spots that I could explore. After a quick search, I found what I was looking for, a group of guards who were more intreated in chatting with each other and being on the lookout. Moving down the street I made my way till there was a state line between me and the perimeter weakness with a good amount of distractions between us. I waited for the perfect path to form before I started to move, and then I saw it. Stepping forward I made my way off the curb and into the street, weaving in between cars and in front of a larger tuck I made my way to the forested divider. Just as I reached the trees the catting police stood up quickly moving around a tree I was an officer move meet the gaurs with a small retune and replace the catting guards with one that here more vigilant.

  “Hay their stranger need a ride?” tuning around to the voice I only recognized it a second before I saw the face of it sitting in an old truck.

  “Peter, aren't you a little late to launch your boat?”

  “aye, but you miss one thing, I can launch my boat at any time. But enough chit-chat, clime in I got stuff you can cover yourself with.

  On his cue, I opened the driver-side rear door and clime in, as he said there were tarps, blankets, fishing rods, and other questionable things to cover myself with. But Peter was a man that I would trust my life to so I started coving myself with whatever the tarps and blankets. “hold up before you cover yourself up give your hat and mask to my nephew.” looking to the passenger seat a younger-looking man of similar build to me was looking at me with shock.

  “Peter, are you sure he's good?”

  “he’s fine, just hand over the mask and hat, we are almost at the checkpoint.” Hearing the urgency in his voice, I took off the hat and mask and handed them to his nephew. Surprisingly the nephew was wearing his emotions on his face, chief among them were awe and wonder.

  Now was not the time to study someone, laying on the floor of the truck I covered myself with tarps and blankets till there was no light and completely black. Laying comply still, I felt the motion of the truck as it moved forward and stopped in a rhythmic function, and then it stopped completely.

  “How are you doing today sir?” Peter's voice was muffled but he sounded confident however the officer's reply was difficult to make out. Trying to focus on their conversations I did my best to filter out other noises, but to my surprise, everything got louder and clearer. From the hum of the engine to people breathing, and most importantly peters conversion.

  “what’s the reason for the checkpoint officer”

  “didn’t you hear about a wanted criminal out New York City”

  “yeah did hear, I’m surprised you haven't caught him yet, or that you haven’t stopped New York City do so”

  “Don’t worry sir or we're out here working on it, but sadly we can’t stop New York City all we can do is filter it, so that’s why I’m here. And because I’m here may ask why you’re going to the peer today?”

  “oh just taken my nephew home, he drove down a few days ago with his friend and now his parents want him back home. And on top of that, the little bugger got himself food poisoning.”

  “Understandable, but is there a reason why you're going by boat instead of by road?”

  “Sorry been a seaman all my life, from the Navy to now fishin' something doesn’t sit right with me while standing on land.”

  “wait you served in the Navy?” a second police officer jumped into the conversation, and thanks to him it quickly evolved into a conversation about military service both personal and familial. A good 10 to 15 minutes had probably passed before the checkpoint moved also along without any trouble. Seconds later I popped my head out from underneath of what was covering me.

  Peter was giving me a thumbs up as he slowly drove through the peer, “weer good for the time being, mom would have to carry onto the boat wrapped in tarps and blankets if that’s okay with you.”

  “Are there still people watching?”

  “yeah, you best day covered forgo while even after we leave the peer, we don’t know what types of eyes are in the sky.” with a confirmation on my end I waited until we reached the end of the peer for traffic, I’ve uncovered myself and curled into the smallest form I could. A minute later I was being carried in a ball of tarps and blankets down the peer and unceremoniously dropped onto a boat. “I’ll be back, I gotta find overnight parking for the car. But Matthew you stay here with the boat and don’t try to throw up on the side please.”

  The next hour could only be described as uncomfortable waiting as I remained in a curled up and covered position while Peter’s nephew pretended to dry heave over the side of the boat occasionally. Thankfully the nephew stopped pretending when Peter got back in a short while later we were off.

  About an hour into our trip, I got a nudge telling me that was good to Ron about freely, and after about 2 1/2 hours the laying down and being covered it was finally good to breathe and stretch my legs. I then sat with Pete and discussed where would be a good spot to drop me off., and we decided on a small town between New York City and Albany where I had already built a network.

  I made it into the town an hour before sunset, I made my way to the moderate-sized motel that sat along the edge of the town. Approaching the payment booth, a younger-looking girl sat behind it chatting with an older woman who was most likely a coworker. When they noticed me approaching the older woman stepped aside to let the young girl job.

  “Hello, Sir what can I help you with today?” Her question was ever so slightly suspicious partially because I had re-acquired my hat and mask.

  “Yes, I have a reservation here.”

  The girl gave me an inquisitive look for opening up a logbook “And what name all those reservations be under?”

  “The prodigal son.” The young woman looked at me with a mixture of emotions that ranged from annoyance to amusement because I was probably not the first and last customer to give her incredibly strange answers today. But the older woman on the other hand flew into action.

  “Sir your room is ready and has been well-kept.” she quickly turned to the young girl behind the admissions booth. “Sarah could you get room key seven this gentleman please hit.”

  “Seven? Isn’t that the room that we never rent out?”

  “you are correct because it is perpetually on hold for this customer who is a great friend of the building owner.” Hearing this Sarah sprinted to the key wall and returned with room key seven. After thanking them, made my way to room seven opening the door I was greeted by an old but familiar sight.

  A stingy motel room. Had seen better days but was not in the worst condition. It was a room that was larger than the other motel rooms partially it was one of my first safehouses that had been set up in New York with the assistance of the building owner. Laying down on the bed I let my muscles relax and let fatigue leave my body, and with it, a small numbing pain began to rise in my abdomen again. Looking down I remembered that I had gotten shot in my abdomen. Rolling out of the bed and made my way to the bathroom to inspect my wound. The wound still looked as gnarly when I first saw yet to my surprise it looked better now than when I first saw the question popped into my head how did I get shots?

  Then all the questions that I’d been holding off on flooded back and my, what happened to my hideout in New York City, how did it get raided, why can’t I remember anything from 24 to 36 hours ago? But looking back at the bullet wound one question sat in the forefront of my mind. How was I recovering so quickly from this bullet wound? It’s almost as if my recovery was…… Magic.

  I wanted to swear but all I could do was let out a groan of discomfort at the thought. That thought brought on even more confusion and questions, but surprisingly things felt like they started to clear up. From my bullet would, to years of hearing damage being revised, to the missing 24 hours, it could all be connected to my dream in the forest.

  This was starting to play out like one of the fantasy novels my brother used to read. Now I regret not listening to him more when he gushed about them, and because of my unwillingness to listen to him. I was now flying comply blind into this situation. I could always count on this event being a one-off, but it's best to play it safe.

  I should give my close friend in the state a message, he will act as a contingency plan in case anything goes belly up, but my first and only option for getting into contact with whoever I was swapping with was writing a message. The question is, what should I write?