Carter

I ran. I ran so hard that my lungs burned. The muscles in my legs, toned as they were, still stung with over use. But the heavy foot falls behind me had yet to disappear, so I kept going. Night had fallen long ago, but it didn't bother me. For me, it was only an advantage. For my pursuers, it was a hindrance. "Carter! Over here!" I jerked my head towards the voice of my long time friend, Ashton. The lights from his motorcycle were blinding, but as soon as he was near, I hopped on the back of the bike and flipped the bird to the people following. Exhausted, I fell asleep with my face pressed against his back and the sent of worn leather permeating every inch of my being.

I groaned as the light streamed in through the window. With a quick glance around I knew I was in Ashton's apartment. He didn't stay there much, but he used the junky little place as a home base. It was also where he staid when he trampled back into the Big Easy. We'd grown up together; caused chaos all over New Orleans before we were even 8 years old. I was the girl that the little lace-clad princesses tormented for hanging out with all the guys. And Ash, well, he was the kid that was always in trouble for something. He was the class clown and loyal to a fault. He was always protecting the underdog, always protecting the innocents of the world, but when his temper went, we all knew to back off. I was the only one who was ever stupid enough to get in his way when he saw red. But the one and only time he'd hit me, at the age of 12, he cried harder than I had.

Looking down, I wore nothing than an oversized t-shirt. My backpack was sitting on a chair by the door. Where are my other clothes? I thought in panic. "Ash?" I screamed, and was answered by his head poking through the doorway.

"You okay?" he asked, concern covering his face.

"yeah, just wondering where my clothing is."

He laughed. "Carter, they were covered in dirt and blood! Did you really expect me to let you sleep like that? I threw your stuff in the wash. The stuff from your pockets is on the nightstand. Don't worry short-stuff, I'm not gonna rob you."

I rolled my eyes. "Like you even could. Or would." He ducked back out of the room and I watched him go. It had been over a year since I'd last seen him. Highschool graduation had sent us in two different directions. Ash spent his time doing odd jobs around the country, where ever he felt like spending a few months. But me, my story was weirder. I tried the whole college thing for a few months. I was good at it. The work was easy. My grandfather had left me more than enough to pay my tuition at Tulane, and I had plenty of friends. But then I noticed I was being followed. It was subtle at first. People, dressed all in black, following me at night when I took a walk. Trailing me home from parties. Watching me from the next aisle over at the market. Then they got bolder. Notes, pictures, etc, slide under the door to my dorm when I was there alone. I remember the last letter. It was the worst, and it was then that I knew I had to run. For the safety of my friends, my family, people in general. When my car had broken down the night before, knowing my followers were close behind, I'd sent a frantic phone call to Ash's voice mail. I knew my chances were slim, but if anyone could save me, it would be him. If he hadn't shown up. . . I shuddred just thinking about what could have happened.

With a sigh I reached for the faded and worn note folded on the nightstand. I'd been carrying in my back pocket since it had been slipped under my door frame less than a year ago. Silently I read the scrawled words on the page, not knowing what my next move would be.

"Hello, Carter.
I can't tell you who I am, nor the identity of my associates.
But we have a message for you. We know what you are."