Pursuit 1

A man attempts to warn his government of a political assassination.

I enter the restaurant, and a waiter arrives to find me a seat. After weaving through the mass of packed tables, we arrive finally at an empty table. I take my seat, and the waiter hurries off to find a menu. While I wait, I look around myself to observe the rest of the customers. My gaze drifts from table to table, not taking much in. However, I begin to feel as if someone is lightly prodding my brain. Looking in the direction of where the 'prod' was coming from, I can see why this had attracted my attention.

    Unlike the rest of the customers in the restaurant, whom are chatting, being rowdy, or diving into their meals, these two looked grave, and are talking without even a ghost of a smile upon their faces. They wear crisp suits, and their hair is very neat, unlike the rest of the customers. I feel myself lightly frown, as though I was attempting to solve a problem within my head, and I was concentrating on the odd pair so much that I did not see that the waiter had returned with the menu. Thanking him, I look down the menu to find what exactly to order, but I can't focus. The thought of the odd men is like a fly buzzing around my head.

    I give up, and return my gaze to the two men. A waitress has just asked them what they wanted to order. Both of the men jump as she voices her question again. I can tell that neither of them have been thinking at all about what they want to eat. Both of them pick up their menus, their eyes speeding down the list of entrées. I suppose they speak their orders to the waitress, and she leaves. 

 

    They begin to speak again, but they're leaning closer to each other. I'm sure that they are whispering. Curiosity finally getting the better of me, I get up and casually walk in their general direction, hoping they would assume I was going to the restroom. I walk past their table by about a foot, and stop there. I lean backward and to the side to try and catch what they're saying.

    "Are you sure this is going to work?" one asks fearfully.

    "Positive," the other replies. He's clearly confident, rolling his eyes as he says it. "You worry too much. Neither he nor his bodyguards are omniscient. They can't prepare for everything. In the huge crowd, nobody will be able to see who did it."

    "But still!"

    "Look, we've been planning this for two years. We've seen every single possible error that could go wrong, and we've fixed our plan to be absolutely perfect. Once the president is out of the picture, we'll-"

    

    The man stops, looks up, and sees my expression. I can see on his face that he knows I have heard what he had said, and I have an idea of what they are planning. The man begins to get up out of his chair, and I immediately dash away from him and out of the restaurant. As I exit, I can hear glass shattering and blunt impacts. Even with the knowledge of a possible delay, I don't slow down, and I run like the wind down several blocks, down to my home.

    I open my door and slam it shut, then drop on the couch. I try to slow my breathing, but I drop the attempt within a second, realizing that I may as well have tried to tell my heart to stop beating. After a few minutes, my breathing begins to slow down on its own, and I sit up and put my head in my hands. I force myself to think about what I just heard. After running it through my head twice, I decide I should go to the police. No need to try and stop them myself, to dive deeper into this mess-

    But that thought stops cold as a picture of their suits comes to the forefront of my mind, specifically a certain white square pinned onto them. My heart stops as I realize that as I leaned over, I read one of them as much as I could, most of it being blocked by an arm.

    Senator.

    That's what it had said. 

    When the numbing effect of horrifying realization passes from my brain, I realize I can't go to the police. I'm likely to be a wanted criminal now, guilty of some false charge. Even if I'm not, they would probably just think I was lying, or insane. With that thought, I get up. Completely certain in the fact that they could not have been senators from another state (who, I had asked myself, would travel for that long to discuss an assassination attempt?) I figure I merely have to get to another state and notify the senators there. Certainly they would take such a claim seriously.

    I walk out my door, and see blinking lights in the distance, heading in my direction. So they had done what I expected. I leave my car. Stealth will be better than speed. After one last look to the far off lights, I run into the darkness.

   

Author's Note

I wrote this about a year ago. I presented it to friends, and they declared it to be good. I believe I have improved, and I want another, unbiased, opinion on this story, so I can give an accurate measure of myself. Feel free to tear it apart. I want true opinions, so DO NOT coddle me pl0x.
On a side note: Forgive this part, as its rather boring. Part 2 has the action bits.