Jerin unlocked the door to his apartment. He dragged himself inside and slumped onto his couch.
He had darted through the city, terrified he was being followed. To lose who ever might be tailing him, he had taken several taxis—that had near suicide—the subway, and then alleys and short cuts. He had also continuously doubled back on him self. Once he was sure he had no followers, Jerin had made his way home.
Now he needed a shower. He dumped his clothes on the floor and grabbed the shampoo with the special chemicals to remove the black dye from his blonde hair. He silently thanked Elliot for knowing he liked his hair the way it had been and would want to get rid of the dye when his assignment was over. Once in the shower, he nearly emptied the entire bottle on his head. He watched as black water swirled down the drain. Pushing aside the curtain, he poked his head out and examined his hair. It was blonde again. He grinned happily and turned the water off. He quickly dressed in clean clothes and threw the old ones in his to-be-washed basket.
He could now go talk to Elliot. Benjamin Riley had told him she was the one to thank for this. In truth, he was slightly surprised she hadn’t come over to see him yet. She must have been worrying about him. Maybe she had full confidence in his ability to stay alive. That didn’t sound like Elliot, though. He shrugged and put the thoughts from his mind. What did it matter? He was going to see her now.
He pushed open the door and strode down the walk way with his hand in his pockets. He was glad the assignment was over—it had to be, after all, he had barely gotten out alive. He hadn’t found out much, only that they were doing something big. But, he had played his part until he was no longer able to do so. Now, he could relax. A nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that Serpent wasn’t likely just forget him and let him go on living, but he ignored it.
Stopping outside of Elliot’s apartment, he knocked on the door. Usually, Sherlock would be barking and bouncing on the other side of it, and Elliot would be yelling at her to get back or else she wouldn’t open the door and let Jerin in. This usually made the dog back off until the door was opened wide enough for her to charge out of and pounce on Jerin. Tonight, however, there was none of this. He frowned, confused. Why wasn’t she at home? Thinking she might not have heard him, he knocked again. Still, no excited dog barked from the other side.
The door next to Elliot’s opened and a woman in her late forties poked her head out. She was thin with graying dirty blonde hair that was pulled back into a pony-tail and hazel eyes. “Jerin! We haven’t seen you for a while.” She had a gentle voice that was slightly high pitched. “If you’re looking for Elliot, she’s not home.”
Just then, Sherlock bounded out of their apartment and tackled her owner’s best friend. Jerin grinned as he played with the happy dog for a few seconds before the woman’s words registered with his brain.
“Wait, where is she then, Mrs. Trapper?”
Mrs. Trapper looked slightly worried. “She dropped Sherlock off early this evening. She looked frazzled and out of focus. When I asked when she’d been back, she said she didn’t know. It’s odd because she always gives us a time.”
Mr. Trapper joined his wife in the hall. He was slightly overweight with balding gray hair and ice blue eyes. He seemed worried as well. “I think you should try to contact her, Jerin, she looked as if she were going to her own execution.”
Jerin’s heart began to pound. Benjamin had sounded worried, but he had thought it was for him. Had it been for Elliot? Deciding not to worry the Trappers, he put on a fake smile.
“I’ll take Sherlock, Mr. and Mrs. Trapper. I think Elliot was just worried about the Broadway show tonight.” He flashed them the false reassuring smile and trotted down the hall with Sherlock in tow.
Back in his apartment, he quickly dialed Benjamin Riley. The man answered some what timidly. Jerin felt annoyed. “Ben, where is Elliot?”
The man sighed sadly. “I honestly don’t know, Jerin. When she called me she sounded distant, as if she were losing consciousness. The phone line went dead after that, and I wasn’t able to GPS her cell. According to the police scanners, there was a shooting at the McDonalds she went to, but they didn’t find anything.”
Jerin’s heart skipped a beat. “A shooting?”
“According to some people they’ve interviewed, a nicely dressed man shot a punk girl who got away, but no one knew anything after that. So, if she got away—”
“Then she’s probably bleeding to death in an alley!” Jerin yelled angrily.
“Calm down, Jerin. Didn’t you give her a bracelet?”
Jerin frowned, confused. “What?” Suddenly, he remembered. Smacking himself on the forehead, he said, “Duh! Hang on, Ben.”
He dug around in the things he had dumped on the floor from his pockets before yanking an iPod touch out of the pile. He typed in his password and poked apps. He jabbed an app labeled “Ninja Sam,” and it prompted him for a second, much longer password. It then took him to a screen filled with many apps not available to the average iPod user, including a listening device, bug-finder, transmitter jammer, and tracking device. He selected the tracking device and scrolled through the list of currently tracking items until he came to Elliot’s name. Poking it brought up a map with a red dot blinking near the docks.
He put the phone back up to his ear. “They’ve got her at the docks, Ben.” He glanced back down at the iPod. “And she’s got a pulse, so that’s good.”
“Indeed,” agreed Benjamin. “I suggest you get some rest before you run off to the rescue. Oh, and they might be holding her as a trap. After all, they can’t be happy that you’ve gotten out alive.”
“Heh.” He glanced down at the cut from the bullet. He had put a My Little Pony band-aid on it. Elliot had given them him as a joke after he came back all beat up from his first assignment. Seeing made him wish he had looked in the car he had used as cover. He doubtlessly would have seen her. Closing his eyes, he silently berated himself for not thinking.
“Jerin?”
Benjamin’s voice dragged him back to the present. “Yeah. I’m fine. You’re probably right. They’ll keep her alive until they get me.”
Benjamin was about to agree when he understood Jerin’s line of thought. “No, Jerin. We’ll come up with a way to get her out. Don’t go turning yourself in. They won’t let her go, they’re criminals. Criminals are never true to their word, so don’t go getting any suicidal ideas.”
Jerin nodded, suddenly very tired. “Okay.”
“Promise.”
“Okay, I promise not to act on any suicidal ideas without first consulting you.”
“Good.”
After saying goodbye, he hung up the phone. Yawning monstrously, he dragged himself to bed. He fell amongst the pillows and was nearly asleep when something whined near his head. He had forgotten about Sherlock.
“Sorry, girl.”
He patted the bed and she jumped up next to him. Whining, the dog laid her head on his stomach. He ruffled her ears affectionately.
“We’ll get Elliot back, girl. We’ll get her back.”
----
Heh heh. Jerin's vain about his hair. Made me laugh.
Still needs a name!! My creative juices are zapped by the story alone! I can't be expected to come up with a name, too!! Seriously, people! You're not doing your jobs! ;-)
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