4The sound of pounding feet echoed through the dark alleyway. Thunder crashed and lightning illuminated the darkness.
Rain poured steadily in a heavy sheet. A young girl, her dark hair plastered to her face and back, anxiously looked back over her shoulder. Desperately, she ran.
Panting, she kept up a steady pace. She knew she'd have to stop soon, but somehow couldn't bring herself to.
"Come, my dear. You can't hide forever, you know. It would make everything easier if you just come with us willingly. If you make us come and find you, it won't be pleasant," a voice called distantly. A look of pure hatred crossed the girl's darkened features. Silently, she vowed never to give herself up to them.
Ten years ago to the day, a promise was made. A promise to never give up hope, no matter how desperate. This promise was made on a mother's deathbed, when a child was merely seven years old.
This family was anything but ordinary. Every female had a gift, but they called it a curse.
They could see the future. But, they could not change it. The women were merely spectators.
OF course, they had tried to change their visions, but their efforts had been in vain.
In the end, these visions are what cause the Barker women's demise.
Cassidy Barker was the last in a long line of seers. Ten years ago, when her mother died, she came into her power. There can be only one seer in existence at a time.
Because of her power, many organizations had wished to use her power for their own tasks. To avoid becoming a tool for their corrupt dreams, Cassie had run.
Never staying in one place for too long, lest she be discovered, she had been to about 15 different states in five years.
To avoid being recognized, she had changed her appearance and name many times. A black sports duffel bag full of costumes and other supplies never left her sight.
Alexandra Barker had hundreds of contacts all across the country. Before she had died, she past on the list - and the burden - to her young daughter. Cassie had gone about a quarter of the way through the list. The contacts were spread out all over the country and, in some instances, the world. Those that were in other countries were towards the bottom of the list, so Cassie saved those for last. It was just easier that way.
For now, Cassie was in New York City, trying to track down one of her mother's oldest friends. Up to this point, Mellissa Crayton had proved particularly evasive.
Looking around the alley, she spotted an abandoned building. Quickly, she ran inside.
Her duffel bag rested on the floor beside her. Unzipping it, she pulled out a blond wig, a set of white tennis shoes and a white yoga suit. Hurriedly, she put these things on.
Along with the companies and organizations that wanted Cassie, the police were after her. From the information she could gather, she was being accused of murdering ten innocent people, including children. Cassie almost laughed at the thought. Her killing someone in cold blood. The very notion was absurd. Yes, she knew how to kill. Yes, she would kill at a moment's notice if her own or someone else's life was threatened, but she would not kill in cold blood.
When she was finally caught, she knew she would be charged with 1st degree murder and evasion. That was unavoidable. Until then, she had to run for as long as possible.
Cassie sighed. Lately, she had become more and more pessimistic. Maybe she was unconsciously losing hope.
Suddenly, a wave of determination swept over her. Remembering her promise to her mother, she squared her shoulders. She could take this on.
Glancing out the door and noticing the coast was clear, Cassie tiptoed around the corner to a black 1986 Chevy Camero sitting patiently on the curb.
Buckling herself in and starting the car, she pulled out a cell phone. Dialing a number from memory, she started driving down back alleyways.
A tinny voice came through on the other end of the line. "Hello?"
"Kyle?"
The voice on the other end groaned. "Cassie?"
"Yeah. Listen, I need Mellissa Crayton's home address. Can you get it for me?"
"What, did they find you again?"
"Yeah. They did. I'm in New York."
"Car?"
"Black Chevy Camero. Make: 1986."
"Staying in back alleys?"
"Duh."
"Anyone following you?"
Cassie glanced behind her. "Yeah. 1992 brick-red Ford Plymouth."
"How far behind you?"
"About 120 feet. Why?"
"Get as far away as possible and duck. The car's gonna blow up in 20 seconds," Kyle replied smoothly.
"Are you crazy?!"
"Happily," he said. Cassie could just sense the smile on his face.
Quickly she grabbed her duffel bag and pulled a lever under her seat. A trapdoor opened in the floor and she slipped onto a hidden luge board concealed underneath the car. Giving herself a push, she sped about 230 feet away from the car, stopping mere inches from the alley wall.
"Kyle, I sure hope you know what you're doing," she muttered, pushing herself as far against the wall as she could.
Time seemed to stop as Cassie's car combusted, the fire from the car igniting the gas tank of the other. Within seconds, both cars were in flames.
Cassie chanced a look upwards. Seeing the cars exploding in a huge ball of flames, she let out a sigh of relief. Picking up her few belongings, she walked calmly out of the alley towards the direction of the police station.
A/N: This was actually a portfolio piece for my English II class. I'm already writing the sequel. After five reviews, I'll post it. Please tell me if you like it!