It's surprisingly easy to break into a morgue and steal a corpse. I would know because I'm doing that right now. All I had to do to get into this freezing corpse room was wear a white lab coat and pick pocket an access card from a man who was leaving. I wander down the aisles of carts with bodies under blue tarps, looking for a match on one of the identification tags. Each step I take echoes throughout the room. At the end of the row, I find him.
Hello, corpse. John Doe, male, Caucasian, brown hair. He will do fine as my stunt double. John will take my place in that burning car.
I pull the tarp down from his face to see if he looks at all like me. I don't expect what I see. Gasping for air, I take a step back. I recompose myself and cover him up. John's good enough; he has my short brown hair. Can't bring myself to look at his face again; those dead, blank, foggy eyes and pale skin creep me out.
I wheel the cart out of the room and quickly make my way to the emergency exit down at the end of the blank hall. Suddenly, a real mortician rounds a corner and makes his way toward me. I slow down to a normal pace and stare straight ahead, but the man still gives me a strange look. However, he continues on his merry way.
When I reach the door, I only have to use the access card to exit without an alarm sounding, which is a lot simpler than what I'm used to. Danny waits with the getaway car. I collapse the cart and roll it into the back of the van. I climb into the passenger seat, pulling off the coat and putting on my leather jacket.
"Maybe you should wear something else tomorrow," Danny suggests. "I don't want to dress the corpse up in an expensive leather jacket."
"But, you know, I'll probably die wearing this, so it would be appropriate," I respond.
The next morning we're back in the apartment and I'm more relaxed than I've been for a while. At least until Danny announces that we need to burn everything because we've been found. Then everyone gets tense.
"What? How?" I demand from the couch, where I was snoozing.
"They found the bug in the phone," Danny answers. "Now they're going to track Agent Rhodes' real phone."
"Sorry, what bug?" I ask, sitting up.
"During the interrogation, I traded Agent Rhodes' cell for a bugged one. That's how we know what they're up to. Weren't you listening?" Danny sets the cell phone on the ground and breaks it with his heel. I get up and start the fire in the dining room fireplace with my lighter and some of the paper lying around the room. Man, that's a lot of evidence to burn.
"The firewall's down. Do 'they' know about this?" Henley asks from the computer, where she was reviewing the plan.
"They who?" Danny asks, making a pile of paper.
"'They', 'Them', whoever we're working for," Henley responds irritably.
"Who are we working for? And are we prepared to go to jail for them?" Merritt asks as he gathers up a stack of paper.
"Stop being paranoid," Danny argues.
Merritt's serious for once and says, "It really does happen."
"It happened to you. Doesn't mean it's going to happen to us."
I move some paper on the table and I find my death card unintentionally. My heart sinks as I realize it's finally here. I could die (for real). I could be shot. I could go to jail. The FBI is after us. This isn't a game anymore. It just got serious.
"Guys," I say, trying to calm myself down. "I don't know if I can do this, all right? I don't want to go to jail, you know?"
Daniel stares at me with disbelief and annoyance. "Then don't screw up. You're always talking about wanting to be treated like an adult. Now might be a good time to start acting like one. Stick to the plan." He hands me some paper and pats me on the shoulder. "Stay here and burn it all."
I take the stack over to the fireplace, putting it in gradually, deep in thought.
"I don't know what I'm doing here," Merritt says.
Daniel sneers, "I don't know what you'd be doing anywhere else."
"I'm here for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow," Merritt rolls his eyes. "That's it. Then I'm gone."
"You can do whatever you want when this is over, Merritt," Henley snarls. "But until then, you stick to the plan."
Daniel peers out the window, peeking through the shades, and his voice softens, "Hey, guys. They're here."
Daniel, Merritt, and Henley leave me without another word with a couple full duffel bags. So much for team. I gather all the remaining paper and try to dispose of it quickly, setting aside one paper that I still need.
I hear the apartment door squeak open as I throw the last bit of paper into the flames in the fireplace. I turn to look behind me. Maybe I am a bit paranoid, but for good reason. I climb on top of one of the tall bookshelves because I remember how no one ever looks up.
Listening hard, I hear two sets of footsteps. I think I can handle two agents, at least for now. The bedroom door bangs open down the hall the same time that Agent Rhodes walks into the dining room, holding his gun in front of him. Rhodes aims it around the room and, spotting nothing, continues to the main room. I slowly and quietly lower myself down to the floor, using the top of the door and the shelf. Across the hall, I watch the second agent enter the kitchen. If I'm going to get out of here, I have to go offense.
Ducking into the kitchen, I grab a wet rag from the sink. I get up behind him. The agent senses something and looks left; I move right. When he looks right, I shove the rag into his mouth, gagging him. He tries shouting. I yank his suit jacket down around his wrists and his gun and I spin it, tangling it. I snatch a cleaning brush to shove his jacket into the garbage disposal as I flip the switch on. It sucks his jacket in. Agent Rhodes will be coming now; that was a lot of noise. Needing a weapon, I struggle to get the agent's belt off.
"Freeze!" I hear from behind me. I get the belt free just as Rhodes enters the room and points his gun at me. I run right at Rhodes, which he clearly doesn't expect, and I whip the belt around his wrists and gun, flipping the gun out of his hands and at the other agent's nuts. I bring the belt up to his chin and snap it tight, knocking his head back. I whap the other agent's face with the belt for good measure. Rhodes grabs my shirt; I grab his and use his force to push him into the fridge. Then I bolt for the dining room because I still need that paper.
"Dylan!" The other agent yells. He must've spit the rag out.
"Hold on!" Agent Rhodes tells him.
I break into a roll under the table in the dining room and stand up on the other side. Oh, bad move. Rhodes pushes the table towards me. I jump on top of the table to avoid being squished and roll. He catches me in both arms and tries to cuff me. I struggle until I twist around and take the cuffs. Without hesitation, I duck down and cuff his leg to a fallen chair. He grabs my wrist; I nab the radio hooked to his belt, pushing him down and backing away.
I stand in front of Agent Rhodes, who is helpless to stop me. I have his radio in my hand. Is he really making it this easy?
Suddenly the radio crackles. I stare at it. "Five is clear, standing by for six," a voice emerges from the speaker.
"You little shit!" Agent Rhodes yells at me with murder in his eyes as he struggles to get the handcuffs off.
"You little shit!" I repeat back to him, enunciating what he does.
"What game you playing?"
"What game you playing?" I mimic. Then, with my best impression of Agent Rhodes, I say into the radio, "We're all good at six, move to seven."
"Move to seven," I hear faintly from the hall and then the thundering of boots up the stairs.
I chuck the radio across the room and into the fire. I take the paper from the floor that I didn't get a chance to burn and tuck it into my jacket. Rhodes goes to grasp a fire poker and I grab some paper, mainly fake Euros. With his leg still cuffed to the chair leg, he advances towards me with the poker.
What Rhodes doesn't know is that I have two instant lighters up my sleeves. I start throwing fireballs at him as fast as I can light the paper without him seeing (which is pretty fast), backing up into the main room. He swings at me with the poker, which I easily dodge.
As he swats at my last fireball, I snatch the poker from him. I hold it out vertically in front of me. Rhodes gives me a look. I toss it straight up into the air; he charges, kicking me in the chest and I fall into a curtain behind me.
As soon as I'm obstructed from his view, he's searching the curtain and I'm hiding around the corner. That's when he sees me in the mirror; he grabs one of Daniel's prop carts and rolls it at my reflection. The glass shatters and he's instantly confused.
I need to get across the room and I'm behind him, so I grip the bar attached to the ceiling above me and use it to swing myself over him. I lose my balance when I hit the ground. Rhodes takes advantage of my fumble and smashes the chair he's cuffed to across my back. I trip and fall. Shit, shit. I look around me for anything I can use as a weapon. A deck of scattered cards? Sure, fine. I gather them up while Rhodes takes the time to get the cuff off his leg with his key. Rhodes gets up and walks over to me, ready to use the cuffs on me. I turn on my back and hold my seemingly empty hands up.
"Whoa, whoa. Hey," I say like I'm giving up. Then I whip out the cards from behind my hand and fan them out in one swift motion and smirk at him.
"Really?" Rhodes comments.
"Yep," I say. I throw the cards at him one at a time as I spring to my feet and back up to the door behind me. The cards cut like knives if you throw them right. Rhodes gets a few cuts on his face, but still approaches. I pass the kitchen and throw a card at the struggling agent.
Rhodes wipes the blood off his face and yells, "You little…" I make a break for it, past the couches and the TV. I wham the door open and I'm in the hall. I race down the stairs, jumping a few at a time with the paper in hand and Agent Rhodes still in pursuit.
I roll up the paper and put it in my mouth. Once I make it a floor down, I jump down the garbage chute in the wall, an emergency exit that Daniel made sure the four of us knew about. I slip down with my hands and feet on the walls to slow my fall. I don't expect Agent Rhodes to follow me, but he does. He doesn't even try to slow down; his body hits me as we land on the mattress at the bottom (Daniel put it there). I'm panting now, my back hurts. As I get up, I notice I lost the paper. Where?
"Give me that!" Rhodes dives for the rolled up paper. I was too disoriented to see it in front of me. I snag it from Rhodes, step on him, and shoot up some maintenance stairs. I take the exit, and now I'm in between two apartment buildings. As I weasel my way through a fence, I glance back. He's still right there!
I take a detour down into a parking garage. As I run past some lockers, I knock over a trash can behind me to slow him. Then I find myself on East Evan Street right in front of two agents. I switch to a casual walk, trying to keep my head down. Maybe they won't notice?
"Hey," One of them says, putting a hand on my shoulder. I twist around and poke him in the eye. Instantly, I put my arms up to block their punches and dodge a couple before I seize their handcuffs. With the same tactics as in pick pocketing, I manage to grab an arm and cuff it to another. I push away the two tangled and rather confused agents.
I dash into their black sedan. They left the keys in. I'm starting it when Agent Rhodes runs onto the street. Pushing down on the gas pedal, I drive away just as he reaches the back of the car. It won't be long until they're onto me again. Reminding myself that I just have to make it to the bridge, I try to breathe.
I swerve around some cars at an intersection and notice a car in pursuit. Interpol Agent Dray is at the wheel with Agent Rhodes beside her. Got to lose them. In a split-second decision, I slip behind a truck backing out. They're not able to follow.
I take another sharp turn and accidentally jump a median, running over some parked bikes. Nearby cars honk their horns as I fly past. I drive right past some police cars with their sirens on. In my rearview, I see them turning around in pursuit. I skid around a pedestrian and a stopped car in the middle of the road.
At this point, I'm very panicky; I can feel the sweat on my neck and face. I almost veer onto a sidewalk. Almost hyperventilating, I try to remember where I'm trying to go. Just get to the bridge, Jack.
I'm almost there; I merge (more like swerve) onto the entrance ramp right in front of more cop cars. Shit. I turn onto the 59th Street Bridge, almost hitting the car on my left. The bridge is two lanes. I bypass several cars. I keep glancing behind me in terror, trying to keep track of where everyone is.
Then I find them. I merge dangerously in front of a yellow taxi, driven by Daniel, and into the right lane. I'm next to a bus driven by Merritt. The bus merges behind me. Now I'm blocked from the view of those behind me. The bus releases a sedan identical to mine from the front trailer and it merges to the left. It's remote-controlled by Henley, who's driving the car in front of it. The black sedan (that they think is me) with John the Corpse inside hits the median and flips multiple times before coming to a stop upside down. The taxi swerves around it as the front end bursts into flames.
I laugh hysterically, relieved it actually worked. I'm alive and in the clear. Now I drive normally…but now I'm legally dead.