The events that have transpired over the past week have taught me that I really don’t know much about the world. But I do know one thing.
I couldn't stay at Jack’s anymore.
The few days I’ve been here have pretty much consisted of me simply lounging around. I’ll admit it, I am scared shitless to go back into the city. All I know is that my copy hasn’t been tracking me. I’m not entirely sure how he found me at the police station, but what matters is that he can’t seem to find me now. But a new problem has presented itself. I think somebody else is looking for me.
Last night, I was having a cigarette on the back porch when I noticed some kind of disruption in the crop field. It was dark, and I wasn’t really paying good initial attention, so I didn’t catch it until it was uncomfortably close. Something was moving around in there, making its way towards the house. I was on extreme edge at point, so I immediately ran back in. I told Jack what I’d seen, and he subsequently stormed out there with his shotgun.
I waited, tensed for what felt like 15 minutes. And then I was jarred by a booming slug. And then another one. Jack rushed back in, eyes frenetic and locked the door behind him.
“What the fuck?” He said, sounding petrified. “Don’t tell me they’re after you”
“What’d you see? Did it look like me?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “What? No. Like... some dudes in body armor or some shit, I don’t know. Look, if they’re after you, then you best speak up.”
That was the issue. I didn’t know who the hell he was talking about. The situation suddenly escalated when I saw flashing red and blue coming from outside. The cops were here as well, presumably drawn in by the gunshots.
“Oh, fucking Christ.” Jack blurted out. “All my shit’s here, they better not snoop around.” And then he turned to me. “Look, if something’s going on with you, then you should probably leave.”
“Leave?” I asked him, in disbelief. “There’s cops out front and weird armored fucking people in the back, where am I supposed to go?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” We could hear heavy footsteps making their way up to his front door. “Suppose you could take your chances and hide here. Can’t stop you now.”
And then they started knocking. I made my way upstairs while Jack opened the door and talked to the cops. As I hid in one of the bedrooms, I eavesdropped on the conversation. It started out calm enough… but it escalated rather quickly. All of their voices started raising at an exponential rate. It sounded like Jack was on the defensive about something. I could make out what he was saying, albeit barely.
“There’s no one here!”
All of a sudden, footsteps began storming up the stairs. I didn’t have time to ask “what the fuck?” They were looking for me, and for too many obscure reasons to probably count.
I opened up the window and jumped out before they could find me. While I was out there, I considered attempting to steal the police car. But I suppose I wasn’t ballsy enough for that. Instead, I simply started running. I knew that there was another town that was about a two hour drive from where I was. But in terms of walking… well, let’s just say that I had a trek ahead of me. After about an hour of walking along the empty road at night, a truck stopped for me.
Now, under normal circumstances there was no way in hell that I would’ve gone with this fucking guy. To put it bluntly, he looked a serial rapist. But the situation at hand seemed to necessitate it. Plus… it started to feel like I was being followed.
“You going somewhere bud?” The driver asked, with a black-toothed grin.
I smiled back. “Yeah. You down to give me a lift?”
Unsurprisingly, he did not go where I was directing him, instead leading me down some sketchy trail. I started anticipating when my first move was going to be. I’d taken a pocket knife from Jack’s house and was clutching it in my hand as he drove.
I decided that the time was right when he stopped us in front of a rusty shack. “Alright.” He said, sounding comically foreboding. “Time to get out.”
I could see him start reaching into his pocket, but I was faster. One jab to the ribs and he was screaming. I followed up by elbowing him in the face and dumping his squirming body on the ground outside. But not before I took his wallet. As I started driving away, I could see about four more equally sketchy looking dudes coming out of the shack. I shuddered, not really wanting to think about what they had in store for me.
In any case, I had bigger issues at hand. I drove to the town that I was talking about earlier and used some cash I’d taken from the guy’s wallet to rent a motel room for a few nights. Whilst I was sitting in my dingy accommodation, I started trying to put the pieces together.
My copy was trying to kill me. There are multiple version of my copy. There were dudes in armor roaming around in Jack’s crops. The cops were looking for me. And I really couldn’t go back to my apartment.
Nope. I had no fucking clue where this was going. Feeling frustrated, I decided to head out for a few drinks. The motherfucker had around 600 bucks in his wallet, so I was going to splurge on a few Heinekens. I’d also found a small revolver in his truck, so I took it with me. Safe to say, I wasn’t feeling safe.
I made my way over to the tavern and sat the bar. I ordered two beers and some chicken wings, cause why not. Just as I was getting relaxed, the bartender seemed to recognize me.
“Hey, you again?” He said to me.
Oh, god no. I thought to myself. Apparently, my copy had been here earlier, presumably looking for me.
“How long ago?” I asked him.
Looking confused, he responded. “Bout ten minutes ago. You don’t remember?”
Ten minutes. Shit. Feeling a bit nauseous, I went to the washroom and weighed my options. I suppose that it made sense to stay, given the fact that the copy had already left. He wouldn’t have any reason to come back, right?
As it turns out, wrong.
Out of nowhere, I started getting a headache. And then my vision went wonky. I mean, I could still see, but my sight was… distorted. Best way I can put it. It quickly subsided, but the nuisance was replaced by sounds of commotion coming from the bar. Sounded like somebody was arguing about something. Sounded like I was arguing about something. It was my voice. It was him.
The bathroom door suddenly kicked open and somebody walked in, eventually coming to a stop right outside my stall door. I wasn’t taking any chances. I pulled out the revolver and fired off two rounds right then and there. I was met with surprised, labored groans as I climbed out up top. I landed right beside him. Right beside my copy.
This was the first time that we’d stared each other down directly. Staring into my own hate-filled eyes was something of an abstract feeling. Sure as hell didn't feel right. The headache and vision problems began coming back. I could tell that it was affecting him as well. It also looked like he was wearing a bulletproof vest, so that explained why he was still standing.
Fight or flight. I thought. An extremely quick deliberation yielded flight. I fired off another round at him, the bullet narrowly grazing his ear, before running the hell out of there, into the confused and horrified faces of the bar patrons. Behind me, he fired off a few shots of his own, but luckily, none of them connected. Zig-zagging my way through streets and alleys, I took a convoluted route back to the motel parking lot, where I got into my commandeered vehicle and floored it out of there.
I only made it about a half-hour before the shitty fucking truck broke down. It then took two more hours of walking in order to reach civilization again. Another small town. And another dingy motel.
That’s where my current situation has placed me. Obviously, I don’t see an end in sight here. I’m on constant high-alert, adrenaline fueling my paranoia. I think it’s paid off, honestly. I’ve seen the same black Sedan drive past my window about four times now.
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Credits
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