The Keys

            Paige sat at a white table playing with the keys between her fingers. Although she was supposed to be working with the slide and microscope in front of her, her mind traveled to the day before and her encounter with Jackson. The keys she had led to something Walter’s enemies were after…but what?

            A safe.

            No, that’s too obvious. Not to mention cliché.

            How about a room?

            That seems off. A briefcase maybe?

            The gears in her head kept turning. She squinted at the keys the harder she thought as if the answer would be there written in small print. She sighed and set the keys aside, turning the coarse adjustment knob to examine the cells in the slide.

            Paige worked for a pharmaceutical company as a researcher. Most of her research was on the brain and how the brain functions. She realized that a lot has been discovered about the brain, but there were so many things scientists still didn’t know about it. The brain is such a complex organ, so much that it fascinated her. She loved her work.

            Paige continued to wait for any sign from Jackson of what they were going to do next. Finally, it was Friday, and the week was coming to a close. Warm droplets shot out of the showerhead and raced through the strands of her hair while a heated mist stuck to her moist skin. Now she was wondering about Jackson. Although he had told her a great deal, she suspected he was still insisting on being secretive about other things. What wasn't he telling her?

Is he doing me a favor in not telling me everything?

What if he’s dangerous?

Reluctantly, she turned off the water and wrung her soaked hair. Water pattered onto the tub floor. She slid the shower curtain aside and stepped out, the air immediately chilling her to the bone. She was quick to grab her towel and pat herself dry. When she was done, she wrapped and tied the towel around her body and made her way across the carpeted hallway into her bedroom. Her bedroom was of a decent size, with a queen bed centered at the right side and her flat screen tv sitting on top of her mahogany bureau opposite to it. At the same side of the room in the far corner was a mahogany vanity set. She walked over to it, pulled at a handle of one of the drawers, and grabbed a brush to start detangling her hair. 

Halfway through her routine, she heard the carpet in her living room groan.

Paige stopped brushing her hair. She listened, waiting for another sound. There was none. She continued brushing her hair.

It was probably the sound of the brush or something.

Once finished, she set the brush down and began fishing through the drawer for hair products. Cans and bottles clanged together until she found the two she needed.

She heard the living room carpet groan again.

She froze. 

Her heart began hammering against her chest. There was someone in her apartment. Or was it just paranoia?

She stepped out into the hallway, slowly, cautiously. She cautiously made her way to the living room. There was no one. She checked every corner, every crevice. Nothing. Her apartment was dead silent. She began breathing again. Paranoia. She turned on her heel, heading back to her bedroom. 

A hand suddenly clutched her throat and she was shoved down hard onto the dining room table. The impact blurred her vision for a moment, but once it cleared, she saw a man with the same tattoo as her previous attacker, holding her down with one hand and pressing a blade to her cheek with the other. He turned his head to the side, and she noticed there was a second intruder behind the first. 

"Get them," he hissed over his shoulder. 

His companion stalked to Paige's bedroom. Paige remembered. The keys. They were after the keys. She fought against the hand that pinned her down by her neck, struggling to breathe. The man only tightened his grip. His companion returned seconds later with a smirk, jangling the pieces of metal playfully, tauntingly. 

"What about the girl?" he asked. 

The man above her looked at her, thinking. 

"We'll take her with us. She might know more."

Paige's eyes widened.

"No...no..." she begged as tears began streaming down her face. 

He scooped her effortlessly into one arm. 

"I don't know anything!" she screamed, thrashing in his hold, trying to break free, "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

The door burst open. Jackson rushed in and punched him square in the face.  The man lost his orientation and stumbled backward, his grip on Paige loosened. She quickly wiggled out of his grasp and fell to the floor. She looked up just in time to see the other man rush into her room. The sound of glass shattering could be heard soon after. Suddenly, she heard a banging noise closeby. She yelped and turned to look, and the man that had grabbed her was now on the floor next to her kitchen table, unmoving.

"Are you alright?" Jackson asked, helping her to her feet. 

"Yeah... Jackson! The keys! They took the-"

"Forget about the keys, grab some clothes, we have to go now."

Without thinking twice, Paige rushed to her room. She rushed back out with a bundle of clothes she could change into later and shoes on her feet. She halted just short of the door. 

"Let's go!" Jackson insisted, gesturing for her to follow him, "We're running out of time!"

Fear rattled in her bones. 

"H-how do I know...t-that you... where a-are you taking-"

"Paige, it isn't safe here for you anymore."

Seeing that she didn't budge, he held a hand out to her. 

"You have to trust me."

Paige squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed his hand. He quickly peeled his jacket off and wrapped it around her. 

            “It’s freezing.”

            And they ran out of the apartment as fast as they could.