The Chase

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"Who's there?" Micheal asked, turning around swiftly to see who had been following him. But there was no one there. This was the fifth time that night.

"Guys, you need to calm down. You're beginning to imagine things," he murmured.

The cold night breeze caressed his skin, he shivered and stuck his hands into his jacket pockets. The streets were quiet, and he felt alone on the street that night. Over a few blocks, he passed, but he didn't meet a single person on the street apart from the dimmed light from a parked car and a man who sat by a shop pretending to be reading a newspaper and some footsteps he heard from behind. But whenever he turned there was no one there.

He took a deep breath; the air smelled like winter, and then he continued on his walk home. The flickering streetlights provided temporary visibility to his path. He thought of how, for over a few weeks, he had this feeling that someone was watching him, but when he checked, nobody was there.

He dug his hands into his pants and grabbed his phone. He tapped through it, and on his screen were calls from the same strange number that had been calling him for weeks now. And whenever he picked there was nobody on the other end of the phone. But the call kept coming.

"What is going on?" He asked himself. He was gradually losing his mind.

Coming up the last alley that led to his house, he called the number again but it went straight to voicemail. He groaned and put his phone back in his pocket. He was close to his apartment now, a small family house just at the end of the friendly neighbourhood inherited from his dead parents.

As he got to his door and keyed the hole, he turned to be sure he wasn't followed and just a few blocks away, he saw a shadow move like it was hiding from him, then a floorboard creaked.

"Who's there?" He yelled, this time with so much bravery in his voice. This time convinced that he wasn't alone.

But when nobody answered or moved, he continued opening his door, his eyes still locked in the direction of the shadow. Suddenly, he saw it, a flicker of movement and without thinking, Micheal removed his key from the door locks and chased after the shadow, which ran straight into the alley Micheal had passed on his way home.

Like a cop determined to catch a thief, Micheal didn't stop. He ran, throwing each leg after the other, pushing his lungs.

But when he got to the end of the alley, he found nothing but just darkness that enveloped him in fear more. He yelled and kicked hard into the air.

"Show yourself, you coward!" He yelled with rage. He was tired of the shady deals, tired of it all.

Heads bent and hands to his knee, he breathed hard, trying so much to catch his breath. Then, gently, he walked back home. He got to his door, opened it, and got inside his house. Making sure he had looked at his door, he switched on the lights and walked straight to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of water.

Like a deer panting for water, he gulped it down like he hadn't tasted water before. Then he walked over to the sitting room, dumped himself on the couch, and shut his eyes. He wondered why anybody could be trailing a poor IT guy like him. Who had lived his life doing little jobs for college kids who brought their assignments to him for help? The only big gig he had done was with a lady who had requested he help her track her missing husband weeks ago.

Just then, he felt movements in his house. He quickly tried to spring up to find out what it was, but was held down by a strong, soft arm that covered his mouth.

He sat there struggling and fidgeting. Then he heard a soft feminine voice say

"Shhh, I'm not here to hurt you. Promise me you're not going to shout once I get my hands off your mouth"

He kept fighting and struggling. But the grip was stronger than him. Realising he couldn't fight his way out, he calmed down and nodded in agreement.

Gently, his oppressor released him, and he turned quickly to see the lady from weeks ago who he had helped track her husband.

"Mrs Harris. What on earth is this supply to mean" he asked angrily and confused at the same time.

"It's Agent Jenny. But you can calm me, Jenny, and I can explain," she replied, pacing his room.

"Well, you better do it before I call the cops." He threatened, bringing out his phone.

"I just told you I'm a cop and you're being monitored because of me," she said in a soft voice.

"What? Do you expect me to believe you're an agent? You had a cat in a stroller when you came to my house last time, remember? " Micheal eyes lit with more confusion.

"It was all a disguise" She shut her eyes as if to remember why she was there in the first place. "Look, the guy you tracked wasn't my husband. He's a cyber-terrorist I've been after for years now. We couldn't get him from our server because he locked out somehow and we needed a way in to track him. So I thought, trying a poor hacker to get to him. But he found out, and you're not safe anymore," she explained.

"Okay, first poor hacker? And secondly, why would you want to destroy my poor life? I was fine with just doing assignments for college kids and talking to myself because of loneliness" Micheal cried.

"I'm sorry if I ruined your life but we need to get out of here now. You're not safe here," she said, walking up to his windows and looking outside.

"I'm not leaving my house," Micheal replied, sitting down on a couch.

Jenny looked at him from the window. She walked closer to where he was sitting, and, like a mother trying to convince her teenage son, she explained, "You seem not to be getting it. Micheal, what you did has attracted the attention of these people because they believe that for you to be able to track them, you know so much now. You're not safe here?”

Just then Micheals's phone beeped, he checked and it was a text
"We are coming for you* it read

He looked from his phone to Jenny. Suddenly, they heard a car park in front of his house.

Jenny walked back to the window "Oh no!" She screamed. "They're here".

Micheal stood up and walked to the window and peeked. Walking up to his house were hefty men welding guns. He walked back to his seat; he was shaking by now. His pants were wet from peeing himself. He watched Jenny walk back and forth thinking of their next move. He heard footsteps approaching, closer and closer, and then it turned to loud bangs at his door.

"We don't want to break this door, Mikey. Open up" the voices said.

"What do we do?" Micheal asked Jenny. His voice was barely audible.

"Is there another way out of this house?"

Micheal thought, his mind almost blank. Then it clicked. The secret man cave his father had built years ago to spend time with his friends who came over every weekend. It had a secret tunnel that led out into the street.

"Yes!" He exclaimed happily. By now the men were kicking down his door. "Follow me" he commanded.

And with that, he ran into the basement; he opened an old fridge perfectly stationed on the wall to reveal a hall that led straight into the man cave. From there, they squeezed through a tunnel which was tiny enough to contain a fat human. Thanks to their tiny structure.

A few minutes later, they were out in the street. After boarding a cab, they finally were on their way to a safe house Jenny said was owned by the CIA.

"What now?" Micheal asked as they drove in silence.

"We get you safe; lay low until I make sure these people are caught", Jenny replied.