The Flash Drive

"I could have the cops here in a second to take you to jail," Mr. Mason lectured me, waving the candy bar around. Why had I tried to steal from this place again? I got cocky I suppose. "Instead I'm going to ask you to do me a personal favor. I guess you can take this Hershey bar too."

"What's the favor?"

The old man went behind the counter and brandished a flash drive. "I need you to take this to Zuccotti Park, drop in the trash can with the man in a trench coat standing near it. This shouldn't need to be said, but this is none of your business, so no peeking."

"Oh yeah, I'm going to plug it into my imaginary computer to see what's on there." Some people had their heads up their ass.

"Listen if you're going to be a smartass I can still call the cops." I knew when my goose was cooked. I grabbed the flash drive and candy bar. Some people might want money for a job, but I was content to accept candy for it.

As I was walking down Broadway, scoping out places to hit up later. The New York Public Library came into view; my curiosity got the best of me. So, I went inside.

"Hey, Darby. The new Grisham isn't in yet." The librarian called to me.

"Just need to use a computer." Being poor forced you to forge relationships with people you normally wouldn't.

Several folders had something to do with the President. His schedule, hotel accommodations, and the plot to kill. A chill ran down my spine; I was helping to assassinate the President of The United States. I had to tell someone.

My head was spinning with what I had seen. My eyes darted everywhere; it was like my life would suddenly be split into two sections before and after. As I approached her desk, The Librarian smiled, handed over two-quarters and nodded to the pay phone. I felt bad because she did this every week and thought I was talking to my parents

I nodded my head. For the first time, I was going to make a call. But who was I supposed to call? I turned to go back to the computer room when I saw another library employee talking to a police officer and pointing at me. I had left the USB in the computer with all of the files open. There was no way anyone would believe my story. I was doomed.

The door was just a few feet from me; I could run and go into hiding. A man in a long, black trench coat walked in. He pulled out a gun and fired three shots at me. I fell to the floor and felt him approach me. I looked up and found the butt of his gun in my face. This was it; I was a goner.

"Isaac told you not to open it." He was right, but I wasn't about to die without a fight. With all of my might, I forced my foot into his crotch. He doubled over, dropping the gun. I grabbed it and ran out of the library. The great thing about Manhattan was that you could easily get lost, but it also meant you could be found.

The subway seemed like the best chance of me getting away, but they already had police guards checking people out, and there was no way for me to hide. Another man in a trench coat was coming down the stairs as I was heading up. He noticed me and fired off three shots. They all hit the wall; I ran up the stairs faster than I ever had before.

"Freeze!" For a split second, I listened to what the man in the FBI shirt said. Then my body acted of its own accord, forcing me to sprint away from the man. He fired a warning shot and I fired one back at him.

The man from the subway was following me, as was the FBI agent. Both were shooting at me and each other. It's exhausting being chased by both the good guys and the bad guys. But at least there was a chance for them to take one another out. A bullet barely missed me; it was so close I could feel the heat. So much for them killing each other, I was the goner.

There was an alleyway in the financial district where I used to buy pot. I ran down there and stopped to catch my breath. A voice behind me startled me. "If only you had listened to me and not looked at those files, you would be able to live."

Mr. Mason had his gun drawn, an evil look in his eyes. "Listen, you old fart, I was stealing chocolate, but I never wanted to be caught up in this nefarious plot of yours. You owe me an apology."

"I gave you a chocolate bar and didn't call the cops. That's enough of a reward. And this, this is how you repay my generosity. You look at the flash drive when I specifically told you not to."

"Well if you had told me that I was going to be an accomplice to something this horrible, this insane then I would never have agreed to help you. 30 days in jail would have been nothing."

His sinister smile returned, his gun leveled at my heart. In one fluid motion, I raised my gun and fired the shot. It hit him in his forehead; he slumped to the ground. Something told me to leave this gun. So, I grabbed his, then rummaged through his wallet, taking the money that was in there.

This was the beginning of my saga. I had to clear my name and cover up a murder. How does one do this and stay one step ahead of those that want her dead?