A Digital Trip

 It was quite far... from a graceful landing. Initially I landed feet first and a sharp sensation traveled up my shins right before I spilt over onto my hands. I'd considered crying about it, when I looked at my scraped palms and watch the blood push out from under the embedded debri, but I had to focus on how I'd outrun the police. It was already a hard task because of the wound in my back and chest, and though it looked like it had been patched--no bandage was going to protect it from the impact of running.
I never imagined myself as a criminal on the run. I'd always said I'd wanted to be a veterinarian or a zoologist in middle school. I imagined a little car-jacker in middle school bringing a gun to show and tell--the criminal thing was his gig, not mine.
I'd been straight-laced and sure of myself my whole life, but I was now almost positive that running from the cops was a crime, and thusly made me a criminal. This was a mistake. A misunderstanding. Maybe I could explain that the T.V.'s told me to do it?

"She's on the ground!" A man called, up from the tarmac. It startled me and I took some steps back under the mouth of the tarmac to avoid detection.
I felt they'd maybe not understand the "T.V.s talking to me" approach, so I ran, again. As I went by another tarmac, I'd realized why gate 25 was specifically chosen--it must had been for smaller planes. The planes that were docked and even the unoccupied tarmacs were considerably higher. Had it been blind luck?
"It's to early in the morning for this," I whined to myself.
A commercial for Quickies Coffee deafeningly blared over the P.A. and I jumped out of my skin before sprinting forward from being startled.
I ran passed a fire door that popped open and had begun to swing outward. I paused mid-stride and turned toward it. No, not blind luck; I recalled the door unlocking itself in the hospital. Was it the car-jacker? What had I called him before? Aiden? Was it him with the T.V.'s? This was his mess.
Sirens blared out in the distance and steered me out of memory lane. Were they coming for me? All of this commotion? I didn't kill anyone.
"Fucking Aiden." I said under my breath as I entered the doorway and glared at a camera. I'd been sure that's how he knew what door to open. I wasn't sure how he did it, any of it. Perhaps it'd be best to not know.
I closed the heavy door and put my back against it. This was feeling all sorts of familiar.
"What now?" I asked to the camera. I walked out in the hall, still hearing sirens populate the air, and covered my ears to delay anxiety. I looked around until the lights had audibly wound down. "Can't see."
A ceiling light lit up down the hall and I stared at it in the dark, waiting for it to reveal something. Maybe the police would round the corner? Perhaps the car-jacker, Aiden, maybe he'd stroll in. But no one came. The light began to flash faster and faster. I just watched, puzzled, until it shut off completely. "Uh. Back to I can't see."

The light came on directly overhead and I shielded my face as I looked up. The next light lit up and the light over head shut off. I stepped under the light and then it shut off, though again the next one lit. "Oh." He wanted me to follow them. I felt stupid.
The light overhead died and this time the light all the way at the end of the hall lit up. I sighed, even the lights were impatient.
The charade continued until I came upon another fire door. It popped open and on the other side was the airport parking lot. In the middle of the lot was the train, boldly labeled "the L." Without needing a hint, I headed towards the trains, neglecting to consider the police cars only few yards away.
"Stop right there!" The voice was firm. Maybe if I stopped running now I could stop wracking up charges.
I put my hands over my head and turned to face the officer. Officers. He had quite a few with him, guns drawn. Some had tasers out. "I surrender."
The cop that had ordered me to stop holstered his gun and walked towards me, working the cuffs of his belt. My heart had crawled in my throat and pounded loudly in my ears. I couldn't believe I was in trouble. I shouldn't had run. He grabbed my arm and slapped a cuff on it. "Ow," I complained. He grabbed my other wrist and pulled it, then yelled and almost dropped down.
I turned to face him and the rest of them, but they all followed suit; grabbing at their ears and doubling over. I cocked an eye brow and yelled over them, "Do I just do this last cuff myself?"
The ground began to shake and I looked back as a train approached. The timing was amazing. Perfect. "No!" I scolded myself. I wasn't running to the train.
"You fucking bitch," an officer cried out, getting onto his feet only to yell again and go back down.
"Hey, this isn't me." It seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. "Fuck." I turned and ran for the train and watched my breath race from my mouth into the cold air in-time with every stride. I held a hand out, anticipating grabbing the railing on the platform and did so. I swung myself around the turn, ran around the gate and into a couple that had been trying to disembark. They gave me an annoyed look but left before "sorry" could come out.
I stood by the open door and watched as the police caught up and stepped onto the platform. "Shit." I put my hands up and looked at the cuffs dangling from my left hand. I sighed. I was pretty sure I'd be going to jail at this point.
Three of them approached the door, guns drawn, "Don't fucking move." Another cop mumbled into a radio velcroed to his shoulder, eyes never leaving me, "We got her, south bound train. Have them shut it down."
And then the door snapped shut. The officers looked confused, I'm sure I had too. The train rumbled, and shook, as if conflicted, and took off rather suddenly. The sudden motion from a dead stop sent me sideways and off-balance. I squinted my eyes, bracing for the ground--but I didn't fall. Instead, a pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and someone stepped into my space to steady me. I turned red. I couldn't see it, but I felt th heat creep up into my face. I turned to say sorry, and whoever it was let go.
"Sorry," I put a hand on the back of my head, "uh, thank you."
It was a guy, probably around my age, in a black zip-up hoodie and standard jeans and shoes. "Getting into trouble?" He sounded amused.
It caught me off-guard, "I think so. Yeah... shit." I plopped down on a seat, and leaned my head against a pole.
"You're going to be alright." He placed a hand on my head and knelt down. "You're pretty cute, you know that?" He got up before I could react and made his way to the other side of the cart. Heat continued to rush up into my face. I looked over at him, his back against a pole, still looking in my direction. He gave a small wave and I averted my eyes to the ground. I wasn't prepared for this.

The train came to a screetching halt--not at a station, and the automated attendant announced the train was having difficulty. The doors opened and dinged and I hopped out. What to do? I casually walked across the tracks towards a green space with a fountain in its center and turned to watched the train take off. Where was the wisdom of taking me here? I parked myself on the closest bench and waited for the next move to make itself apparent.

It came in the form of a hand under my arm pulling me up. I turned quick, half expecting the cops, but jumping up when I realized it was the car-jacker. "How did you-" I was cut off by the harshness in which he pulled me off the bench and into him. "Hey!"
"Be quiet and walk." He kept his hands on my shoulders and drew me further into him until my back was touching his chest.
"Wait," I tried to turn but he rushed me forward, "just stop!" I turned into him, meaning to be obstinate, but it came off intimate.
"You're going to be found out if you keep talking and don't move."

"The train stopped here, not at the station, they won't look-" he put a hand over my mouth and opted for towing me backwards by my face.
"CTos can hear you. It'll recognize your voice, you're face."
I tried mumbling something unpleasant but it was terribly muffled under his hand. I went along with him across the park and to a black car parked on the side of the road. He opened to door and I got in after receiving the look of "if you try to run I will shoot you" and waited quietly.

I escaped the police! It's this idiot's fault they are after me, but I don't that badly. I looked over with pride on my expression, but it died when I met his eyes and he was less then thrilled.

He grabbed the neck of my shirt and shoved me back into the door, "who the fuck are you and who are you working or?"
I out my hands up, shocked, "what?"

"Don't fuck with me!"

"Whoa, I'm not!" Maybe getting in the car was a bad idea.

"You have CTos access! Who are you working for?" He slammed his other hand into the dash and I jumped, "who hired you?"

"Hired me?"

"You accessed a file on my phone," he put a thumb over the wound on my chest, "the club? Viceroys? DedSec?"

As soon as he said DedSec I recalled a photo on his little light-up-collage. The woman who's photo said "dead". She was lying in a puddle on the grass and the car-jacker was walking away. I put a hand on my head, not wanting to remember anymore, "No!"

He pressed a thumb into the track of where the bullet had exited and I screamed, writhing uncontrollably. "No isn't acceptable," he let go, "I thought you were just determined clueless idiot. Obviously not."

"You took my car," I put pressure on the wound to try and ease the pain, "I didn't seek you out."

He paused and leaned back against his door and folded his hands over his chest, "how did you gain access to CTos?" He asked it in an overly nice way. He switched modes.

"I didn't." I may not have been exactly sure what he'd been referring to about having access, but I knew CTos: couldn't escape the commercials back at home, "I don't understand why you think-"

"The airport, the train-"

"You helped me."

"I what?" He laughed and began to sit up.

"You helped me escape," I was starting to worry that none of this was ringing a bell, "'you better run'."

"I didn't know you were in trouble until I saw you on the news."

"I didn't know I was in trouble until I saw myself on the news." I had a feeling I wouldn't have to worry about Chinese water torture being next, I could tell he believed me.

"Why go through all the trouble of saving you," he started the car and grew quiet, "unless it was to keep you accessible."

"Accessible?" I pulled my seatbelt on, remembering his driving.

"It's harder to get to you in prison." He seemed a lot calmer, relieved by his own logic.

"Why couldn't someone have saved me because I am innocent?"

"Because that's my M.O. and I didn't save you."

We headed away from the park, this time he didn't drive like a Fast and the Furious extra and I was almost grateful. He put the phone to his ear, "Jordi, I know you're back, pick up your damn phone." He was quiet for a moment and then I heard a voice on the other side, inaudible however.
"Yeah, business. Speaking of which, I have something for you." Another not of silence on the car-jacker's part, "If that was the case, I would have done it a month ago when you snaked your way back." He glanced at me and smirked, taking the phone from his face, "it's hard to explain."
"You'll love it. Owl motel. 15 minutes."
He pulled into the parking lot of the Owl Motel and got out of the car. I sat in car a while longer and watched him pace and talk. He ended the conversation and l looked at me through the windshield, determination in his expression. He came around and opened the door, "Out."
"Have you been informed you're unnecessarily rude?" I scootched closer to the center-console.
"Out, please." Sarcasm. What was I not surprised? He grabbed me by my arm and the trip upstairs was a painfully poor attempt to ignore gravity.
We got to his door and he turned unlocked it. At this point, I couldn't figure out his game plan. If he didn't save me, who had? He was annoyed with it. With me. He did I'd taken something, but I hadn't. Fear started to creep in, he said someone was trying to keep me accessible, was he too? I didn't want to find out. Maybe jail was safer.
"Help!" I began to yell until the holy union of his palm and my mouth were reunited. He pulled me inside and gave me a light push onto the bed. I stood up quickly and watched him close the door and whip around.
"That was a stupid move," He closed the gap between us and I backed into the wall, "are you trying to get caught?"

"Caught? You framed me for murder!"

"What?" He laughed And pot a hand on the wall and leaned in, "if someone's trying to put you in jail, then it's Blume who's trying to get to you." He put his other hand on the wall divvy his weight, "but if someone else is hacking CTos to keep you out," he sighed, "what was on it?"
"On it?"

"The program. The digital trip. And don't say everything was blue."

"Are you going to kill me?" I struggled to break eye contact, but it wasn't happening.

"Do I need to?"

How was I supposed to know? What's a good reason to kill me? I heard the metallic clink of the cuff. I didn't look down, but I had an idea--a good reason not to kill me is if I'm attached to you. I brought my left hand up followed by the right. I clasped the cuff around his wrist and watched as he quietly stared at it.

"Is that your answer?" He looked at me.

"Huh?"

"You think I won't kill you if you're cuffed to me?" He grabbed my left wrist with his right and tossed me on the bed, "you're trying my patience."

A knock on the door broke the staring contest.

"Who is it?"

"It's the pizza guy." There was enough sarcasm to penetrate the door.

The car-jacker looked up, "Jordi," he smirked, "this should be fun to explain." He pulled me up and opened the door with his left hand, forcing me behind the door. A man stepped through and the door closed.

Long time no see, Aiden." He smiled and then froze, "Uh, you got a cling-on problem, captain?" He pointed at me as he raised his hand to emphasize the cuffs. "Who is she?"

"She's your new contract."

"She's right there, what do you need me for? Kill her." Jordi grabbed the chain and gave it a tug.

Aiden jerked his hand away, "I don't want her dead. Blume's after her."

"Oh, no no no. Maurice was excruciating pathetic. I'm not good with pets. They always die."

"Room, food, water. She stays inside, Out of sight. It's not hard."

"I've got that part down. It's the crying and begging to be let go. You pop her, all of your problems will be solved." He was very matter of fact about it and I worried this was making sense.

"All of your problems. If you can't handle it, I'll just-"

Jordi sighed, "Fine, fine. I'll do it." He looked around at the room and then at me, "I do work for money."

"Yes, you do." There was a dig in Aiden's words. I didn't know the history of these two, but it sounded like there was an issue.

"So what am I doing?" Maybe I'd take my own welfare into my hands.

"You've done enough." Aiden barely regarded what I had to say.

"I'm not hanging out with a fixer," I looked at him and his smug face, "no offense."

"None taken, but you're not paying me, so we'll be hanging out." He made the quotation marks with his fingers.

I looked at Aiden, "why? Can't I just go?"

"I've tried getting you to go on several occasions, I wanted you to go." He put a hand on my head, "You can't keep out of trouble."

"Me?" I shrugged out from under his hand, "you couldn't keep yourself out of trouble and you're family had to leave because of it!" As soon as I said I wish I hadn't cuffed myself to him.

His eyes narrowed and he looked to Jordi, "You think I should just shoot her and call it a day?"

"Family stuff, probably not the best way to go." Jordi tried to break the tension.

"I'm leaving!" I threw my uncuffed hand up and walked towards the door.

"No, you're not." Aiden blocked the door with himself and lifted his cuffed arm. "It's not permanent, it's just until I get this sorted."

"Shooting me is pretty god-damned permanent." I put my free hand on the knob, ignoring his blockade.

"I'm not going to shoot you." He eased me backwards and tried to guide me into the room.

I dug my heels in, "I'm calling bullshit."

"Look," he stopped pushing me, "it may be partially my fault that you're," he avoided eye contact for a moment, "in this." He put his hand on my head- his thumb by my temple and sighed and then he froze. "Hey," he put his hand on the back of my neck, "are you--" He tipped my head back and placed the back of his hand across my forehead. I swatted him away.

"What's your problem?" I was between cranky and confused.

"Take your shirt off," he grabbed the bottom of my shirt and I raced to keep it down.

"Hey, I'm just gonna," Jordi pointed to the door.

"Stay put," he instructed Jordi, "you, you may septic."

"Hey, I don't play nurse." Jordi still heading for the door.

"I can't watch her, not with what's going on." He wrestled my shirt off and I raced to cover myself with my hands and his right arm went unwillingly. Grabbing my left hand in his, he put it by my side. He ran his fingers on the edges of a square bandage. It was soaked in sweat and blood. It wasn't bleeding now, but it must had been. Probably my new-found athletic lifestyle.

"Gross." I looked up and tried to cover myself again.

"Relax." He tried to peel the adhesive tape

"You took my shirt off, after I said no." I whacked his hand away.

"It's nothing I haven't seen already," he pulled the bandage off and started to peel back the gauze and I just blankly stared, "Who do you think patched you up the first time?"

I wiggled my left hand and raised it, "I don't want to be attached to you anymore."

Aiden smirked, "I can get them off," he made a face when he peeled back the last gauze pad, "this is...."

"Not my problem," Jordi opened the door, "This is going to involve crying and coddling, I don't do those. I'll watch your pet, when it's not dying, otherwise I can't make guarantees."

Aiden gave a careless wave and Jordi left without so much as a look back. I watched Aiden's features change from mildly annoyed to super focused. What was that all about, "Coddling?"

"Yeah, he's not particularly cuddly." He nodded toward the closed door.

I watched his face and he looked up at me the moment he poked something and it hurt, "hey."

"Yeah, so this is infected." His eyes narrowed and he grabbed his phone with his free hand.

"What are you doing?"

"You're going to need to trust me," he put the phone down, "and stop doing stupid things." He lifted his cuffed wrist--exhibit A.

"I figured you wouldn't kill me if-"

"I'd saw your arm off...or break your fingers." He was very matter if fact and if it weren't for the reassuring smile, I'd have thought he'd been planning that. "Luckily cop cuffs are standard and I can pick it."