Thought I'd give you a treat for Halloween. Hopefully, this is posted on Halloween... I write the authors notes as I start the chapter, so if I'm not distracted, then it should be posted the same day I write it. Woo!
Anyway, sorry about the long wait. Running out of ideas on how it should go. Also, any ideas for how it should end?
I don't own AR, btw. Just in case you were wondering.
Lifting himself over the railings – finally – after shoving the money in his backpack, he slithered down until his fingers were on the bottom ledge. Swinging his feet inwards, he let go of his grip and dropped down three metres onto the balcony below. Repeating the same actions again, he dropped onto the ground, listening for any movement.
Not hearing any footsteps signalling the soldiers' movements, he took a deep breath, waited for a moment, and pushed off, sprinting it for the tree line.
He wasn't stopped, and it was with that that Alex started his journey north, heading for what was really the closest train station – Calais-Fréthun, less than 10miles away.
Alex wasn't too sure whether or not Mr Sprintz had known about the train station just 10 miles away when he'd told Alex to head to Calais Ville, another train station 25 miles away. His untrusted opinion of adults in general, and especially one who could have called who knows who during the night whilst Alex was asleep made him more believing that Mr Sprintz had lied to him on purpose; that he was setting Alex up and that someone would be lying in wait at Ville, like they had been at the Parc.
But then, maybe he wasn't lying at all, and was simply unaware of Calais-Fréthun, the station he was going to head to.
Alex had plenty of time to wonder about this as he jogged in a slight pour down of rain to the station, and it was only after he'd guessed he'd travelled seven and a half miles out of the ten that perhaps Mr Sprintz had known Alex would have heard of the other station, and head there instead. And maybe there was a trap at Fréthun.
He stopped in his tracks, mentally considering this. With everything that had happened to Alex, he wouldn't be surprised if this would be the case. But he needed to get out of France, or at the very least Calais, the city he was in now.
Public transport was out, he decided. He shouldn't have even considered going to a train station after the debacle on the Eurostar train. So, no trains, no buses, no trams, no taxis.
Although, taxis' pose less of a threat. Little CCTV that's only recorded back to the central base, and drivers wouldn't really care about who I am, Alex thought, considering this last option.
Fleetingly, he thought about finding and hot-wiring a car, but dismissed this idea when he realised he was more than likely to be stopped in a stolen car than he was in a taxi.
The only problem now was actually finding a taxi, which was easily solved when he came to a hotel. Being only two and a half miles away from a train station did have it's good points, with hotels popping up all around them.
He opened the doors, and stepped inside, noticing the receptionist at the desk, awake and ready for the new day.
"Bonjour. Je me demandais si vous aviez un numéro pour un service de taxi, s'il vous plaît?" he asked the man.
"Ah, oui, je vais appeler un pour vous, si vous le souhaitez," the man replied swiftly, asking Alex if he wanted him to call for one.
After a quick nod of his head towards the receptionist, Alex sat and waited on one of the couches in the welcome area until the taxi had arrived. He made sure to stay out of sight of the CCTV hanging above the doors to the elevators as he did so, not wanting his face to appear in them.
He contemplated how whoever came through the door had found him in the hotel room. More than likely, if it were the SAS, they'd tracked the cars license plate number he and James had escaped in at the park, realised it was Mr Sprintz's car, and found out which hotel he was booked into.
This wouldn't have even taken them an hour to do, though, so wondered at why they had waited until morning to collect him, when it would have been easier during the night whilst he slept.
He figured, though, that because Mr Sprintz would splash out and stay in a five star hotel, that privacy would be something the hotel specialised in. Despite the SAS being high up, this wasn't their country; they couldn't break into a hotel and break into a room a famous man was staying in without the French authorities approval, or else there would be major complications for the British. So, this most likely held them back.
After all, although the French and the British were friendly neighbours, neither one would like the others army in their country.
At this thought, the taxi the receptionist had called parked at the curb, and he climbed into the back. Although it would have been more polite to have sat in the passenger seat, there was more of a chance anyone looking for him would be able to spot him from there, using speed cameras to spot him.
Just as he was about to tell the driver to head to Gravelines, at least 30 miles away, the door opposite where he sat opened, and someone sat down.
James.
Alex looked at the boy, before exclaiming, "what are you doing here?"
He was shocked; how did James manage to find him? If a boy like him could follow him, he had no chance against intelligence agencies.
James didn't get to answer, before the driver got annoyed at the hold up.
"Where you want to go?" he asked in stuttering-annoyed English.
"Gravelines, please," Alex answered. He'd get his answer out of James on the trip.
The driver started the car, and the meter, Alex noticed.
"So, James, how'd you find me?"
James looked smug when Alex turned to face him to ask his question.
"Well, it wasn't really that hard. I figured you wouldn't go where my dad told you to, and unlike him, I know where the closest train station was," yeah, he was definitely smug, sitting up straight in his seat with his head partially thrown back. "So, I went in that direction. Though, I lost track of you for most of it. Then I saw some footsteps in the mud when you must have crossed it, and walked where you went, and saw you going into the taxi." He was still grinning as he finished his tale.
But Alex was still suspicious.
"How on earth did you manage to run seven and a half miles?" He didn't mean to sound condescending, but James wasn't exactly one to exercise. Well, his thumbs might be in top-fit condition, considering the boy loved to play video games.
James shrugged. "The girls love it when you work out, Alex. So I've been putting a few hours in at the gym every week. Look at these badboys!"
He took off his jacket, and pushed up his sleeves to show Alex a slight bit of muscle on his arm, that Alex guessed would have simply been achieved as James aged, anyway.
"Wow, impressive." Sarcasm was a strong point with Alex
"Yeah, well, where we going, anyway?" James changed the subject, noting the sarcasm and not being happy about it.
"Gravelines," Alex replied, confused. Hadn't James heard when he told the driver this?
"No, I mean after that. 'Cause you need to get out of here."
"Oh, right. I have a plan. If you want to join me on this plan, then fine. But I can't tell you about it, in case, you know, you get taken," Alex tried to scar James off, "they might torture you and stuff to get answers, but you won't have any, so they'll most probably let you live." He didn't really want James along with him; it wasn't that he didn't like James – he did. It was just that it was easier by himself. He didn't have to worry or care about anyone else, that way. And if he failed in getting away, then he only had himself to blame. Not to mention that James was a kid who grew up privileged. If James started to whine about not sleeping in a hotel, then he would have to leave him behind.
But James wasn't scared off at Alex's answers. It was almost as if he got even more excited about this. Alex thought there might be something wrong with him.
"Wicked! This will be so cool," James said. "But what if we get separated? I'll need to know where we're going so we can meet up."
Alex smiled in his mind, but outwardly kept his face from showing emotion. "If we get separated, James, it'll be because you weren't doing what I was telling you to do, and I'll leave you behind because of it. This is serious stuff, and I need to trust you to always do as I say. Can you do that?"
Alex saw some of the excitement leave James' eyes, as he realised he was leaving one authority figure behind, just to be passed onto another.
"Fine," he muttered sourly. "Yeah, you can trust me."
"Good. Oh, and do you have any money?"
James pulled out his wallet from his back pocket – Alex wasn't sure when he'd managed to grab it, or if it was always there – before Alex snatched it out of the boys hands.
"Hey!" James proclaimed. "Give that back." He tried to grab it from Alex, but he simply turned his back to James to keep him away. Opening it, Alex took out the credit cards he found there, and threw the wallet back at James. He'd noticed that James had at five twenty Euro notes in it.
He started to bend the cards to break them up, and when they'd snapped, he rolled down the window and put his hand out of it, releasing the cards.
"You got a phone on you, James?" he asked to the shocked boy.
He didn't, and after that, they remained quiet for the last five minutes of the journey.
When they got to Gravelines, they stepped out of the taxi, and Alex made James pay the driver; he wasn't going to waste his money now when he knew he'd need it at a later date.
He'd decided he was going to have to use a train in Gravelines; there simply wasn't another way he could think of getting to where he wanted to in a quick amount of time.
But first, he needed to change his appearance – his hair was slowly losing the blackness it had gained in the Eurostar train, when he'd used oil from underneath a car to dye it, as the rain poured down and washed it away, so stopped off at what appeared to be the French equivalent of Debenhams, and made James buy three hats. One for him, one for James, and one as a spare in case he lost his. They also purchased some simple black gloves, and two cheap jackets that could be worn inside and out. The inside was a bright red, and the outside a dark blue. Good for a simple change of clothing in case they needed it.
Finally, they headed to the train station, where James bought two tickets to Dijorn, in eastern France. This would just be the first stop of many, and as they got on the train an hour later with nobody stopping them, Alex hoped that they wouldn't be stopped on the next part of their trip.
Not a long chapter, but I felt it had to end here, at the beginning of their new adventure. Unbeta'd and unchecked for spelling/grammar, btw, so sorry for any mistakes.
I decided to keep James in the story; didn't want to use him as a two-chapter chump. Hopefully, I won't regret it in the coming chapters.
This might also take on a more fun approach with James in it; not too sure if you all would want that, though. It won't be too funny, or too unrealistic, if I can help it. But like above, with their convo in the taxi, and Alex kinda degrading James a little bit, Would you want that?
I've got a fun thing coming up, hopefully, if I can write it right. Kudos if anyone gets what I'm thinking of including by this clue:
Besides mustard, what else is Dijorn famous for?
Kinda got the idea from Coach Trip, and I don't think anyone's ever written about this in their story before, so at least it'll be original.