The Intern-Chapter 3

Light rains beat against the limbs and leaves as Courtney's heart pounded in her ears. She had not run this way since training at the academy with Agent Morris. The daily runs were a pivotal part of the training regimen he put her through, getting her ready for the field someday if she decided to join the bureau. Since those days, Courtney went for a run nearly every day, keeping herself in the shape she got into during her time studying under his tutelage. Normally, it was a cathartic experience. She could take off in any direction, let herself go for the moment, and escape from the noise and chaos that was her world.

She ran out of the McLaren, waving at Helen, her windbreaker zipped just slightly as it left her mid-section revealed beneath her sports bra. She wore earbuds on a cord that followed down her neck and disappeared into her inside breast pocket where her phone was clipped. Courtney's black leggings ran down to her ankles, revealing small tattoos on both, before her silver and gray Nike Airs met the bottom of her ankle bones.

It had been a week since starting her new job and nearly ten days since landing in Lancaster Colorado. This was the longest time she'd stayed in one place since going on the run. The town's folk were inviting, friendly even, and she liked the bar at night. There were plenty of people around in case anyone from the bureau, or anyone attached to Agent Morris's shooting, happened to find her there. The guys were all cowboys and rednecks, just as Bo described them but most took a liking to Courtney and she could tell would back her up if they found her at the bar.

Courtney ran down the street and took the first left, heading towards the Torra. It was what the locals called the smallest peak on the end of the ridge. There was a park before the trees where kids played and a trail that wound its' way around the tall pines as it took runners and hikers up the side of the Torra. She didn't run the Torra every day, but she enjoyed the view and the peace of the outdoors as she pushed herself to get back to some healthier habits.

Courtney moved through the woods, her heart racing as beads of sweat streaked down her cheeks, neck, and shoulders as they headed downward between her bosom. Her ears filled with the music of her youth. Music that always helped her push herself further than she could. She had raced through the park--Torra Peak stood on the opposite side of the trees. From where she disappeared into the trees as she passed the park to Torra peak took just thirty-three long minutes as she held the eleven minute per mile pace she set. Not bad, thought Courtney, as she saw the end of the trail and looked at her watch. She'd knocked fifteen seconds off of her best time so far.

Stopping at her favorite spot, a large six foot tall boulder at the edge of a stream, Courtney reached down and with both hands splashed water on her face. The water was cool and fresh from the rainy weather. She took sips of the stream in her hands, the cool water washing across her tongue and down her throat.

On warm and sunny days Courtney would climb the six foot boulder and lay back across the top, staring forever at the blue skies peaking between the tree tops. Beneath the overcast skies, with the drizzly rain still falling, it was too cool outside to sunbathe. She sat alongside the stream, her back resting against the side of the boulder, as she scrolled through social media on her phone. She watched Morris's social media, seeing a picture of the two from a couple of years ago. Morris took the photo, Courtney's first shopping trip in D.C. he called it when he posted the picture. Courtney couldn't believe that it was two years ago already.

She dialed her phone, holding it to her ear as it rang once, twice, and a third time before the phone was answered. She could hear the voice on the otherside.

"Hello," answered Morris.

Courtney said nothing. She wasn't using the secure uplink he gave her. She couldn't afford to say anything to him-it would get her caught.

"I know you're there kiddo," Morris told her. "I'll keep this short. Stay hidden. I'll keep funneling to the secondary account. I'll reach out at the scheduled time. I know you won't say anything. I love you kiddo, stay safe."

Courtney slid her finger across the phone, a tear streaking down her face. She felt the pangs of solitude. Sure, there was Helen and Bo, but neither knew who she really was and she couldn't share her true identity. It would put them at risk if they knew. She'd never felt so alone and even witness protection was turning into a fond memory.

The sun was going down and Courtney realized it was getting late. She had the last four hours at Sullivan's tonight. Courtney took off toward the path, her feet picking up speed as she disappeared into the trees. She cranked the tunes playing in her ears up a notch and decided she would try to beat her time on the run back to the McLaren. Rocketing down the trail, winding past an old tree that was down near the second bend, she looked at the scorch marks from it being struck by lightning. It must have layed there in the woods, dying alone, as it slowly rotted back into the earth from which it came. By the time she passed the tree, working her way down the third bend in the path, she found her training zone. Courtney was lost in her thoughts, pushing herself, the blaring music keeping her motivated. It was in that place, her most zen of mindsets, that she crashed head on into a large arm as it shot out in front of Courtney. She reeled from the clothesline, landing flat on her back, the air rushing out of her chest as her feet hit the ground last.

"Waky, waky, waky," a rough, gravel voiced man said, waking Courtney.

The smell of ammonia filled her nostrils as Courtney opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry and the back of her head ached as she struggled to shake off the fog from being knocked out. Courtney looked around, struggling to move as she realized she was still in the woods. The area didn't look familiar from the ground but she could tell she was somewhere off the running path. As she layed there on a bed of thick leaves and twigs covering the grassy earth she could start to see the man kneeling over her.

"Shit, he's a hunter," she said to herself.

She was staring at a hunter, one of the men that Morris told her to avoid. The hunters worked for the group and were the ones that shot Morris before chasing her through part of Chicago. They'd have caught and killed her had she not made it to the front door to precinct 6.

"Who are you?" she whimpered, still weak from being slammed into the pavement. "What do you want?"

The hunter turned his attention to Courtney, his hands still fumbling through his pack. He wore a thicker beard, a black knit cap, and black tactical wear that she recognized from the bureau range. Definitely, she thought, military trained and connected. But, what was he doing?

"Some old friends of yours sent me to find you," he answered, smiling down on his pray.

Courtney's heart skipped a beat. If the group sent him to find her and she was still breathing that meant they were taking her in for interrogation, or worse, he was going to interrogate her. After he grilled her about the grand jury testamony he would report in and they'd order her eliminated. She knew she was short of time.

"So," the hunter asked, leaning over her. "What's a little thing like you done that makes you so bloody important?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," lied Courtney, biding her time and making mental notes about her attacker and the area she was lying.

She watched him walk over to a full duffel bag and start to fidget around. Looking up as she leaned slightly to her left, she could see him pulling out a metal case. She knew what it was-it was an enhanced interrogation pack. Courtney got scared. Knowing she would never withstand questioning during a chemical interrogation she wanted to scream for help but knew nobody would hear her. If she did the hunter would silence her faster.

Play it cool, just play it cool.

She started shifting around, fighting to get her hands down to the back of her waistband. She felt around her lower back, finding a lump still in the band of her pants. She used her fingers and started pushing the six inch stiletto she stashed in her running pants. All she had to do was work it over to the hole in the center.

"Well, little one, you're going to tell me everything I want to know. It's up to you how much it has to hurt."

Courtney got the blade out and slid it open, poking her palm in the process. She started to slice against the zip ties on her hands. As she worked on cutting herself free she watched as the hunter prepped a cocktail of narcotics that would lull her resistance and leave her susceptible to suggestions. She was nearly through them when he stood up and walked back to where she lay with an evil intention.

"Sodium Thiopental, commonly called truth serum. Now, I've put a couple of additives in there that will make you feel it quickly if you try to lie. Do what you want, but I urge you to answer my questions," he told her as he leaned down to inject her with the potent concoction. "This stuff is just downright nasty and most buggers don't survive the process if I have to use more than one dose."

"No, please...I'll talk," she told him, feeling the wiggle room in her wrists getting looser. "What do you want to know?"

The hunter knelt down beside her, wrapping a rubber hose around her arm. Damn it, thought Courtney, pulling her wrists against her bindings. He was close to shooting her up. When her wrists finally pulled apart, Courtney slipped the blade into her left hand and waited for him to turn her over. As he turned her on her side to check on her wrists, she furiously lashed out, sticking the blade deep into the side of the hunter's neck before dragging it through his jugular.

Courtney kicked him away from her, pushing both feet into his chest with as much power as she could muster. He fell over on his back as she rolled over and struggled to get to her feet. Leaves fell off her backside as she stumbled to move away. She turned, looking at the hunter, seeing his eyes flitter into the back of his head as he held his arm out, hoping for help. Blood poured from his wound as his arm slowly dropped. The hunter was dying. Courtney wished she had time to question him, to see how close the other hunters might be, but he was gone. She stood there, staring into his cold, dying eyes, as the color in his face grew pale.

After several minutes in shock, Courtney leaned down and checked him for a pulse. He was gone and she was safe. She combed through his pockets, looking for identification. The hunters' phone was secured and she couldn't get to his phone numbers or emails. No identification, no phone numbers, no emails, he had left nothing to chance if he was captured or killed. This was no average goon. He was a professional, the kind of man M told her to avoid. Courtney took all the cash he had in his wallet, five grand in total. There was no sense in leaving that behind.

A half-hour after sticking the hunter in the throat, she returned to the scene with a shovel. Digging a shallow grave took her thirty minutes and left blisters on her hands. Courtney drug his body over to the hole, rolling him into the three-foot-deep grave. She'd never killed a human before. The feeling was confusing. As she covered his body and packed the dirt down, crying the entire time, this was the most scared Courtney had ever been in her life. If she wanted to stay hidden, to stay put until M caught up with her, she couldn't go to the police. They would run her and find the F.B.I. warrant for Courtney Capone. A few hours later she knew she'd be dead in a cell somewhere and the official tale would call it a suicide.

Courtney walked down the mountain path after burying her assailant, still shocked by the events of the day. M was right. Hunters were a different breed of bad guys. If there'd been any clue as to who sent them she would have something to work with. If they were all as complete as this guy, she'd need to grab one and keep them alive.

After she got to her car, she drove back to the McLaren and rushed inside. A quick shower later and she was on her way to Sullivan's. Hopefully, Bo wouldn't be too upset that she missed the first thirty minutes of her shift. She had on her tightest jean shorts and a tee-shirt that made her breasts more prominent. Courtney left her jacket in the car and ran into the bar.

Bo watched her come in and as soon as she did the guys sitting at the bar yelled, "Courtney's here." Bo wasn't happy about it, but she'd quickly become an attraction and she had helped raise the bar revenue.

"Sorry boss," she said, slipping past him behind the bar. "I lost track of time."

"Doing some painting were you?"

"What?" she asked Bo.

Bo pointed at a spot on the side of her neck. There were red flecks on her neck. She looked in the mirror behind the bar, seeing the two flecks of dark red there. She'd missed a spot she was in and out of the shower so fast. Courtney grabbed a towel and rubbed her neckline. The splatter hit her when she slit the hunters' throat.

"Thanks, boss, that'd be embarrassing to run around with paint on my neck all night."

Bo looked at his sexy new bartender, knowing something was different. "You alright kid?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I think I burned my bridges at both ends and just need a good night's sleep," she explained, lying to her boss already. She hated having to lie to people, but there was no other way around the truth at times.

Courtney stayed at Sullivan's until after two o'clock in the morning and helped Bo close up. Bo walked the waitresses that stayed late outside and stood in front of the bar until they were in their cars and headed home. When she did get back to the McLaren she was pleasantly surprised not to find Helen sitting up in the lobby area watching late-night movies. She needed to get upstairs and get out of her clothes. Courtney felt dirty from the day, and a late shift that included cleaning up the bar didn't make things any less grungy feeling.

She slipped into the shower and stood beneath the water as it caressed her skin, running in streaks down her flesh, soothing her into a moment of not seeing the face of the hunter that attacked her earlier. Her hands were still a little shaky. She still felt like she was on the mountainside, watching him as he struggled for air, his blood gurgling from his slit esophagus. She closed her eyes and all she could see was the bloody pool around his body as the color slowly disappeared from his skin. Slowly, she slumped down in the shower beneath the water as she burst into hysterical tears. Life hit her all at once.

The next morning Courtney woke up in the shower, cold and naked. Her face was a mess as her makeup streaked down the sides of her cheeks. She crawled stiff and sore from the shower, finding a towel and wrapping it around herself. Courtney fumbled around in her room until she found the stiletto. She took it into the bathroom where she kept her bleach and detergent. She put a rag in the sink to stop the water from draining and then poured bleach into the sink. Dropping the opened stiletto in the water she wandered off to get dressed.

Sure, she may have killed a man twelve hours ago, but as M would tell her, "Keep moving forward kid," she knew life must go on. She made the only choice she could. If he'd interrogated her the hunter would have eliminated her after they were done questioning her about her statements.

Courtney was dressed and headed down for breakfast when she noticed Helen was talking to one of the Lancaster deputies. He was a youthful-looking officer, maybe thirty, with large well-toned arms, an athletic physique, dark hair, and blue eyes. Courtney went over to the table where Helen hosted a breakfast in the mornings. She had waffles, sausage, fruit, orange juice, and coffee laid out. Making herself a plate of food she listened to Helen talking to the deputy.

"No, Jeffrey. Nobodies complained about breaking down near the Torra. But, I haven’t had a new guest in two weeks. Young Courtney over there is new around these parts but she drives that Impala parked out front."

The Deputy thanked her for her time, turned to leave, and nodded at Courtney as they passed one another. "Ma'am," he said to Courtney as she smiled.

When he left Courtney walked over to the desk and asked Helen, "What was that about?"

"Deputies found an abandoned car out by the old Torra running path. Said it came back to a rental company," explained Helen.

"Weird, huh?"

"Not really, Courtney. The fact is, people get lost up there and sometimes take a day to find their way back. I'm betting someone will turn up and claim the car," said Helen as she walked nonchalantly to the McLaren laundry room to attend to her chores.

Not this time, thought Courtney.