Author's note: O.K. here we are my triumphant return to writing, after months of long studying I have finally decided to write again. I have been taking a writing class so I have been too busy to write. Again, I am sorry.

Disclaimer: I'd like to not leave one here. Yet, if I didn't, I might get arrested. Actually never mind, I am giving credit to the author, Suzaine Collins (I think that is how it is spelled.), and I am not making any profit so I don't really have any case against me. Then again I have no real clue how any of this works Blah, blah, blah, blah…In conclusion Blah, blah, blah…death star...and once when I was three………………………………………Wow sorry about that, anyway here is the story.

Chapter 4: Yesterday, four years ago Overland

"Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be, there's a shadow hanging over me."- The Beatles, Yesterday.

John Hamm, his name strikes fear into every cop soul. He was believed to be one of the few child serial killers. Now he was on the run from the government, his parents, the mob, and people who were more powerful than all of the above combined.

Yet is he really guilty of these crimes? He believes no, he is sure his parents did it. The truth of course that his parents were lying, but something was missing. His parents were not killers, so then who was sent to do it? How did he do it?

John was walking down a street in a very crowded city, rain was his cover here. He looked around knelt behind a trash can.

Two cops were making their way down the city street. They looked like they were doing their last patrol and were not very alert. As their blurred figures moved into the light, John could see them more clearly.

One was fat and had a large moustache. The other was thin and had a full beard and was almost a foot taller than the other. They were both wearing dark blue uniforms and had guns and tazers proudly displayed on their hips. They also had large black caps on. John wondered why the caps were a different color.

John leaned in to see if he could hear what they were saying after he saw them talking, what he heard would change his life.

The tall officer was the one he heard first, he said, "Did you hear about the recent killings in Turk?"

"No. What happened?" asked the other blankly. They stopped and took cover from the rain under a small balcony near the next building. John inched over so he could hear better.

"The M.O. matches that of a serial killer form the killings in Beverly Hills," the tall cop paused at this and took out a cigarette. He lit it, took a deep breath and continued, "He was last seen there two years ago, when he was taking residence at a broken down motel."

"Spooky," said the fat one with chills running down his back.

"Yeah, I know," the tall one trailed off.

"But!" he said with anger. "Now we have to be on the lookout for this kid again. Here I was thinking that this kid was dead, now in the middle of nowhere he pops out and kills someone he didn't know, but that person has one of the largest houses in town, so he burns that house down. Why did it have to be in the middle of nowhere? And how did that kid survive till now, he was five when he killed those people, now he is seventeen!"

John had been out of the loop for a while now and was starting to have suspicions that twelve or thirteen was not a very accurate age. As he had a vague idea of his actually date of birth and had no idea of what year it was, he did not know how old he really was. Another factor is that he hadn't looked at a single paper since he left the carnival. He really had no idea his age.

"Come on Bert our shift is over," Said the fat one.

"O.K. Ernie, you drive since you're the patrol driver, Ernie," said the man whose name was apparently Bert.

"All right, but only because you are buying lunch tomorrow," said the man whose name was apparently Ernie.

John had learned many things today. One, he wasn't thirteen he was seventeen. Two, he was convicted of another murder. Three, people do not seem to have much creativity with names. Finally four, someone died, and he knew exactly who.

He left for Turk that night, the one year trip to there from Seattle had begun.