[Seward, Nebraska. January 13th, 2017]

"Can I help you?"

I hold the door open just wide enough for my body to fit in between, my slightly incredulous eyes repeatedly looking from each person to the next.

This is seriously like something out of a movie.

There's four nicely dressed men - all in spiffy black suits, dark sunglasses, buzzcuts, complete with shiny shoes - standing around the front door. Their arms crossed at their front as they stare emotionlessly at me.

Uhhhh.....

The one that's standing slightly closer to the door than the others - the boss I'm guessing, straightens his head up, looking me over through his dark sunglasses.

He kinda reminds me of Cobra Bubbles off of Lilo and Stitch actually.

"Miss Nora Miller I presume." His question comes out more as a statement, an air of authority surrounding his large - aka, muscular - frame.

My mouth hangs slightly slack, and I immediately snap it back shut as I stand straighter.

"Yeeees. Can I...help you?" I drawl out, raising an eyebrow up at the suspicious group.

You definitely don't see this everyday.

He reaches his hand back, one of the others immediately placing a paper - that he got from somewhere, into his hand.

"We're searching for a fugitive who escaped custody sometime last night, and we're asking everyone around if they've seen him." He holds the paper up.

The air seems to evaporate from my lungs as I take in the messy raven black hair, the specific facial features - that scar, the stunning, serious ice blue eyes that I've never seen before in my life.

Casey?

But...what?

"He's considered highly dangerous and is not to be approached if seen." Mr. Bubbles hands the paper back, attention still on me.

Highly dangerous?

Casey hasn't seemed at all dangerous in the past twelve or so hours I've known him.

Though it could all be an act. There's no doubt about who they're looking for after seeing the picture.

But what's with all this? The spiffy people - my eyes flicker to the curb beside the house, a flashy black SUV parked there - the car, the...secrecy?

Why didn't they just broadcast it on the news?

Something doesn't add up.

Bubbles seems to sense my hesitation, his head moving to look behind me. "Miss Miller, have you or have you not seen this man?" He repeats, something in his voice changing.

My eyes flicker back up to - after somehow being on the ground, Bubbles, cautiously looking over the three silent men in the background.

"No." I blurt out, making Bubbles raise his own dark eyebrow up at me.

He straightens the front of his expensive looking suit. "Anyone aiding and abetting this criminal will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law." He leans forwards slightly, not convinced.

"So I'll ask once more, Miss Miller." He lowers his voice, the tone low and threatening. "Have. You. Seen. Him?"

I feel a drop of sweat run down the side of my forehead, heart pumping in my chest.

Why am I even defending him? Is it some weird loyalty/protective thing I've got going on because he ran into my Jeep?

That doesn't even make sense.

He's a fugitive for heavens sake. Rat him out already Nora. Who knows if he hasn't already stolen something or planted a bomb in my house....

His timid attitude flashes before my eyes. That specific way he stands that kinda just screams awkward/clumsy. His quiet, reserved voice. How he doesn't even like to make eye contact.

They say amnesia brings out the actual you because you can't remember anything about yourself - obviously.

So.....

I take a step back, closing the crack slightly. "No, sorry, haven't seen him. But if I do, I'll be sure to stay away." I make myself smile, going for charming.

He still doesn't look convinced.

"Why don't you let us in so we can search the house?"

I let a low chuckle out. "Uh, how about no." I shoot back, growing more annoyed now then worried. "This is my property, and unless I'm mistaken, you can't search my house unless you have a official permit - which I've yet to see."

Oh yeah. Did I just hand it to him or what? One up for Nora. Zero for Bubbles.

His eye twitches from beneath his shades.

"Besides," I look them over, making a face as I set my hand on my hip in a confident manner. "you haven't shown me a badge or anything, how do I even know you're telling the truth." I cross my arms, staring at him.

He digs into his pants pocket, pulling out a wallet. He holds it up, flashing it open then closed before I even get a chance to comprehend what I just saw.

"We're with the secret service, and you're unauthorized to be given anymore information." He bluntly answers, sounding more like a machine than an actual person.

Secret service huh?.....What does the secret service even do?

I shake my head, pushing the door closed. "Welp, sorry." I pop the p. "Can't help you. Come back when you have a permit."

The door comes to a abrupt stop as something pushes against it, my head automatically moving to look back outside.

Bubbles stands right on the threshold, his hand flat against the door as he restrains it from being closed.

Fear tightens in my chest.

He looks up from his downward position, cracking his neck. "I didn't want to resort to this, Miss Miller." He blows a breath out through his nose.

"I thought I'd do this the easy way since you're a smart kid, that you'd make the right decisions." His lip twitches up in a cruel smile.

"But I guess I was wrong." He holds his hand back out behind him. "The hard way it is."

Someone places another paper in his outstretched hand - I don't know where they keep pulling these out from, and he immediately holds it up in front of my face.

Oh crap.

He holds a black and white picture that's taken from the air, a view of inside a front window shield of a Jeep.

Two people sit in the Jeep. Two unmistakable people.

Yesterday. That stoplight. He must've gotten the picture from when we stopped in front of that stoplight!

Busted.

I grimace, bringing my right hand up as I nervously bite on the nail of my pointy finger.

"I gave you a choice, and it seems you've sided with the wrong side." I tear my eyes away from the picture, looking back up at Bubbles.

"So now, I do what I came to do." He leans forward, his now empty right hand reaching down inside his suit at the chest.

I've seen enough movies to know what's about to happen next.

"And we have orders to eradicate anyone the asset's come in contact with."

My eyes widen with realization, lungs squeezing in terror. He pulls a large shiny object out, only one thought running through my head.

Gun!

I snap out of my frozen state, abruptly slamming the door shut as I stumble away from it. Eyes stuck on the door.

But sadly Bubbles catches the door before it shuts all the way, swinging it back open as he slowly walks inside - all casual like he owns the place.

I trip backwards, probably looking like I'm stone-cold drunk as I practically trip over nothing to get away.

I turn to the right, my right foot catching on my left leg as I take it too frantically.

My eyes spot Bubbles no more than ten feet away - only a little past the doorway, aiming his silver lethal weapon at ME. Then I lose sight of him as I hit the ground behind the sofa.

There's a sudden sound to my right - like the sound of the kitchen door swinging open along with quick footsteps, then a ear splitting pow fills the room.

A shout leaves my lips, my body curling in on itself as it prepares for the bullet that's bound to come ripping through my own flesh at any given second.

Only it doesn't.

I peel my eyes open I hadn't even realized I'd shut, a ringing in my ears which must be the after affect of setting a gun off in a inclosed space.

There's a pained grunt from over next to the door, the sound of skin smacking skin as what sounds like a fight breaks out.

I jump as something hard smacks the ground, my hands grasping the rug.

A garbled yell comes from over there, a few more grunts before something else smacks the ground.

Not being able to hold off my curiosity any longer, I cautiously get on my hands and knees as I peek over the back of the sofa.

Casey stands over a knocked out Bubbles, his back to me as he lifts his right leg up in a well aimed front kick.

His boot-clad foot connects with one of the other suits - who'd been charging him, in the stomach, the guy's eyes literally popping out as a large whoosh of air explodes out from his mouth from the contact.

My own eyes widen as the guy actually sails backwards in the air, disappearing out the open door right before a loud crack sounds out from the wood railing smashing to pieces.

One other suit guy remains - the other on the floor unconscious with Bubbles, and Casey wastes no time.

The other guy carries his gun in his right hand, preparing to shoot from only four feet away with a expression of pure terror on his face.

Casey lunges forward with more speed than I can keep up with, grabbing the barrel of the gun right as suit guy's finger presses down on the trigger.

I wince as another ear splitting pow echoes out, the bullet tearing into the ceiling as Casey expertly jerks it up a split second before it goes off.

Casey then switches his hold on the gun with his left hand, quickly jerking his right elbow towards himself before sending it back.

It smacks directly into the guy's face - making his head snap back, and I wince as a noticeable crack comes from his nose. A red liquid dripping down.

His eyes roll up in the back of his head, his body falling slack. His unconscious body lands with a plop on the hardwood floor, joining the pile of prone bodies.

Silence fills the room.

I shakily stand up, my hands pressed against the back of the sofa as I look over the bodies before my eyes land up on Casey's back.

His back rises and falls with each fast breath, his head angled down to the floor as his left hand holds the gun up from the barrel at a distance.

His eyes seem to flicker over to it without his head moving, his hands immediately releasing it as he realizes he's still holding it.

It bangs on the floor, simply laying there like it didn't just almost kill someone.

Oh my god!

Casey leans forward like his energy has suddenly depleted, his hands moving to grab the back of the chair that's a foot away from him. He grasps the back of the chair, hanging his head low, hair falling down in his face as he takes deep breaths. Eyes closed.

My own eyes land on his hands that grip the backrest, spotting blotches of red.

Blood.

Then they catch their subtle movements, his hands turning white as he tries to restrain the slight tremble in them.

I don't dare to move. Too afraid one movement might either set him off again, or wake someone up.

Neither would be good.

I glance back out the door, where that guy went flying out the door.

No normal person can do that. No normal person can send people flying twenty feet back in the air with still enough force to break through our sturdy railing.

And the speed I saw.

Something's not right with.....him.

"Pack some stuff."

My gaze swings back towards Casey, his voice sounding rougher than usual - raw, back still towards me.

"We're leaving in five minutes." He straightens up, glancing down at his blood stained hands.

And that breaks me from my speechless trance.

"Um, why the heck do you think I'm going with you?" I question, disbelief in my voice. "You're apparently a fugitive wanted by some secret service people." I fling my arms down to the bodies to prove my point. "Who you by-the-way just took out like it was a measly walk in the park." I run my hand through my hair.

He abruptly turns around to face me, his eyes looking slightly wild.

"Well be my guest if you'd like to stay here and wait for these guys to wake up and for more to undoubtedly show up." He almost yells, making me stare at him in shock.

That's a complete one-eighty from the Casey I've known. Not that I've known him that long.

Maybe I was wrong not to tell these guys. Not to give Casey away.

"We have orders to eradicate anyone the asset's come in contact with."

The words echo in my head, setting off alarms. What government organization orders people to be killed like that nowadays?

That's not right either.

Casey stares at me a solid second, his nostrils flaring as he breathes deeply. He turns back around, shielding me from the obvious struggle he's having with some unknown demon.

I stubbornly cross my arms, looking away as I come to a conclusion.

Guess I can't stay here. I'm undoubtedly on their 'kill list' now.

But what about my parent, Noah?

At least they'll be gone for another three weeks. And it's not like they really keep tabs on me anyway. Maybe I'll have it straightened out by then...?

Alright, only one choice then.

"Fine." I huff, taking a step as I head towards the stairs. "But I'm not happy about it." I point out, swinging my head back at him.

Running up the stairs, I first head to the bathroom, grabbing my bag of toiletries before heading in my room.

I can't believe this is happening. Though I said that yesterday after I nearly hit someone.

But I really can't believe I'm running for my life with a potential amnesic fugitive!

My life has literally taken a turn for the worst.

Grabbing my empty backpack, I sling it on my bed, angrily stuffing a few clothing articles inside.

Pack some stuff, pack some stuff! You can't just tell a girl to simply, 'pack some stuff.' It doesn't work that way.

After I've completed my clothes, I step back, glancing over my room.

A sudden bout of dismay hits my heart, shoulders slouching.

What if I never see this place again? My home....My family?

Shaking the thoughts off, I grab my piggybank - yes, I have one - off my high shelf, standing on my bed to reach it.

Pulling the couple hundred bucks out - what? I'm prepared - I then stuff them in my wallet, zipping that up in the side pocket of the backpack.

What else does one take when on the run?

My eyes land on my phone that's sitting on the desk, my fingers itching to grab it.

But I've watched enough crime fighting movies to know people can easily track you by phone.

So I can't take it. No matter how much I want to.

This is the worst.

I grab my garnet red winter coat, pulling it on over my shirt.

Lugging the backpack up on my shoulder, I glance around once more, and my eyes land on something in the corner.

My 1970's dark mahogany guitar.

Making up my mind, I step forward, gently tugging it free from its stand. I then wrap the guitar strap over my other shoulder, stepping back to the door.

My eyes sting as I fight the urge to full out cry. Partly from the fact I was almost shot and could've died, and partly because who knows what's going to happen now.

Pull yourself together Nora. Don't fall apart now.

Squaring my shoulders, I wipe my eyes, setting my face in a determined frown.

Right. Now lets get this show on the road.

I walk back down the stairs, hesitating on the turn that leads down the last few steps to the living room.

What if they're awake now?

I peak around the corner, immediately spotting the three dark-clad prone bodies spread around on the floor.

That's comforting.

Quietly walking down the last few steps, I almost jump as Casey unexpectedly walks in from outside.

The blood now gone from his hands.

"Are you ready yet?" He questions, and I feel his gaze run over the guitar on my back. Hot like a fire.

I take a moment. "What about food, more clothes for you?" I tick off, glancing down with widening eyes as one of the dudes moves his arm slightly.

Casey barely even blinks, keeping his full attention on me.

"Extra clothes, but then we leave." He turns away, walking the few steps back to the open doorway.

I quickly shuffle back to my brothers room, randomly stuffing some of his clothes in the backpack.

Walking back out, I grab a Stealers baseball cap - hopefully he's not offended, off the hook on the wall, placing that in the backpack also.

It's a big one okay.

I search over the house as I walk back to the front door, remembering each fond moment I've had here.

I lost my first tooth in that dining room, my mom bandaged me up in the living room after I fell due to skating when I was seven.

Loads of memories. All of which are making my eyes mist up again.

I carefully walk through the maze of bodies towards the door, thinking one might suddenly reach out and grab my leg.

That'd be nightmarish.

I grab the Jeep key out from the bowl, joining Casey who's standing outside next to the door.

He looks me over real quick, then pushes himself off from the side of the house, heading to the Jeep without a word.

Though the harder I look at him, the more I can tell he's not as chilled about this as he's playing it off to be.

His shoulders look tense, his gaze sharp as he repeatedly looks around. On the look out for anything that could be a possible threat.

My eyes land on the now broken railing to my left, the wood completely missing in one little section where a body plowed through it.

I rub my upper arms, more from the odd shiver that's running down my spine then the actual cold that hangs in the morning air.

Blowing a breath out, I watch as it puffs out like smoke. Hanging in the air for a couple seconds before disappearing.

I step down the couple of steps from the deck, looking for the fourth body.

There's a skid mark that slides along the snow covered ground for about four feet, the missing pieces from the railing scattered around.

But no body.

There's a specific indent at the end of the skid, where the body rested once it stopped. But he's not there.

I look back at Casey who's standing next to the Jeep, his attention on across the
road. The two dents in the side of the passenger door only looking more menacing in the growing light.

He walked back inside from being outside when I came down the stairs.

Did he move the body out back?

And judging from the fact there aren't any marks in the snow that show he dragged him, he must've carried the guy.

And none of them were exactly 'petite.'

Though, wasn't I just telling myself something isn't right about him?

I eye Casey suspiciously for a second before walking around to the drivers side, popping the door open. Tossing my stuff - gently with my guitar, in the back, I then take my seat.

Casey opens the other door, smoothly sliding inside before shutting the door.

I shut my own door, placing the key in the ignition. Turning the Jeep on, I then shift into reverse, backing out of the driveway.

Buckling up, I then shift to drive, heading down the street even though I have zero idea where we're going.

I grasp the wheel tightly, Casey's presence now making me feel nervous for some reason.

What? Listening to all this fugitive stuff is making me cautious.

And does this mean I'll have to dump my Jeep somewhere? My beloved Jeep! I can't do that. This is my pride and joy.

But again, I've watched plenty crime films to know; you can be easily found by your car.

Blah, blah, blah, blah.

Ugh.

A thick silence takes over the Jeep, an uncomfortable feel about it as it wraps around my throat. Smothering me.

"Alright, I know you don't remember, but why the hell did four nicely dressed men come and try to kill me after asking about you?" I suddenly burst, the stress becoming too much for me to bear.

I've got a short fuse here.

Casey's left hand comes up to fiddle with those dog tags through his shirt, eyes glued out the front window shield.

"I don't know." He mumbles through tight lips, his right hand tightening around the door handle.

That just sends me to a boil.

"Oh cut the crap! This is all your fault mister. I'm blaming everything on you!" I quickly glance over towards him.

"My life is - for some reason, on the line right now because of you! I'm running for my life now because of you!" My voice comes out high pitched, panic setting in.

What am I supposed to do?!

Casey closes his eyes, his nose flaring as he breathes deeply. I hear a small, barely perceptible crack come from the right.

And that's when I spot the small cracks slithering up from the door handle in the plastic he's tightly grasping like his life depends on it.

My eyes widen.

He's breaking the door handle off from the actual door!

He abruptly lets go - like he just realized he was doing it, his eyes snapping open as a deep ragged breath explodes from his lungs.

"Look," he leans forward in his seat, pressing both his palms to his forehead as he kneads them.

"I'm sorry I got you into this....mess. But I'm honestly just as confused as you are. Yell at me all you want, but that's not going to help anything." He looks up at me from underneath his hair, eyes dark with fear and confusion.

I blow a deep breath out, flexing my hands out as I re-concentrate. "Okay, sorry. Sorry I'm a little miffed about my life being ruined in less then 24 hours all because I - partly, ran into someone who ends up being a fugitive that gets amnesia from the so-called accident." I ramble, sounding a little more sarcastic then necessary.

That's it, I'm loosing it. Just kill me now.

Casey goes silent again, another internal struggle raging inside him as he looks out the side window.

His right hand comes up to the glass window, his fingers delicately tracing over the prominent cracks that spread out in a circle in that one specific area.

Then he says something that freezes my heart, all my thoughts rearranging.

"I had amnesia before I hit your vehicle."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
A/N

Oh snap! It's getting real now!

Questions:

1.) What would you do in Nora's position?

2.) Who do you side with? The so-called secret service people, or Casey?

3.) What're your thoughts on Casey apparently having amnesia before he hit Nora's Jeep?

VOTE!! I'd highly appreciate it! 😃❤️ Say something! Let me hear your thoughts! I'm always open to constructive criticism.

Next update: Next week.

Till next time,
Maggy