[img]http://i1062.photobucket.com/albums/t486/isthistaken1/Emily-Grey.png[/img]

Emily sat cross legged strumming her guitar in a little nook between a set of stairs and the BART track. She liked how people actually glanced at her. Sure a lot ignored her, but that’s was to be expected. She enjoyed the little tune she was making up as she went along, before switching to ‘Uncle John’s Band’, a personal favorite of hers. There was some change and a whole dollar in the open guitar case in front of her. That had been this sweet old lady, the lady hadn’t stopped, but she had smiled. Emily enjoyed it when people smiled at her. 

Out of the corner of her eye she sensed the presence of someone standing beside her. For a moment her heart skipped a beat, wondering if it was a cop coming to tell her to beat it or spend the night in jail. If it were a cop escaping his attention would be easy, the crowds at this time of day were easy enough to slip into. She stopped playing and looked up the leg, realizing the dark suit couldn’t belong to a cop. She let out a small sigh of relief. 

His eyes met with her’s. He hadn’t been staring at her, but he did now that she wasn’t playing. 

“Got a request?” Emily asked. It was a weird sensation to have someone stare at her that intently. 

“Emily Louise Grey.” Emily blinked startled. She stared back at him for a whole minute not saying anything. Her name almost foreign to her, her foster sister these days called her Em, if anything at all. Even in the small shared room the girl didn’t seem to always notice Emily. The parents themselves while nice enough, were annoyed at Emily for having passed only by the skin on her teeth this last year of high school. She had no prospects, no job, no school. It was over for her. The foster parents had her for another three months though, and then she’d be 18. 

“What?” Emily finally asked, suspicious. The man didn’t seem to catch that, he only spoke quietly, as if he knew that people wouldn’t see the girl he spoke to. 

“Take this. Read it carefully.” He removed from his jacket an envelope, dropped it into her case, and then said. “If you’re smart you’ll follow the instructions inside. Wait until you get home to open it. The information is… [i]sensitive[/i]. Please destroy it when you have read it in its entirety.”

Emily looked down at the envelope sure it would explode, or contain some white powder. Her heart pounded, what was this?

“What do you want?” 

“For you to read that,” he nodded at the envelope and walked away. Disappearing almost as well as she could in a crowd. Fear spiked through her. If he knew her name, and had found her, not that when she was playing it could be that hard, who was he? Her stomach twisted and she quickly put away her guitar. She needed to read whatever was in the envelope. There would be answers in it.

[hr]
Tessa, Emily’s hot headed roommate wasn’t in the room. That girl had more issues than Emily did, which was saying something. She wouldn’t be at this house much longer. Emily sat on the top bunk that Tessa had delegated to her the first day she had arrived. Her fingers trembled as she opened the letter. Really hoping white powder didn’t fall out. It didn’t. Instead there was a letter, and a plane ticket. She glanced over the plane ticket first. A direct flight, first class to Haiti. [i]What in the world was going on?[/i] Answers would be in the letter, hopefully.

‘Emily. You don't know me, but I know you. I know it's hard to trust someone you don't know, but I'm asking you to just read this letter and give me a chance. The government has targeted you. That blood test you took last month was taken by every teenager in the country. It was looking for people like you. Special people. You're not the only one. There are hundreds, if not thousands. I'm giving you a choice. Stay where you are now, and die, or be taken away to live out your days as a lab rat - or, alternatively, leave your home, get on that plane and do not look back.'

'You will never be able to have the life that you have planned now, but I can offer you a new life. A life where you can be a part of the downfall of the government's genocide of people like you and I. Your powers are a gift, I can help you use them for good. If you decide to take that ticket, know that a lot of hard work and danger will be coming your way. But ask yourself - is that not better than death? I hope to see you in Haiti. Look for a man holding a sign saying 'Smith Family' when you arrive there. He will take you to your new home, should you choose to take the flight.

'Regards, -W.V.'

'P.S.: If you have family, it's best that they don't know where you're going.'

Chills spread over Emily’s skin, exposed or not. She remembered that test, and how the school said it was required. She remembered the doubt in her mind. Was this guy ‘W.V.’ really like her? She heard footsteps and the door open so she shoved the letter and ticket under her pillow and picked up her guitar. Tessa came in just as Emily started picking lightly at the strings.

“Oh hey, what’s up?” The foster sister asked.

“Not much.”

“Make anything?”

“Like two bucks.” Emily sighed and leaned back against the wall, letting the guitar fall silent. In a matter of seconds Tessa seemed to forget her foster sister’s presence in the room. 

Emily pulled the ticket back out from under her pillow. The flight was the next day. She could do it. Catch the flight and be gone. The change in scenery might be good, and leaving wouldn’t be too hard. Emily sat up, waiting for Tessa’s quiet snores. Not that she couldn’t have packed and been gone without the girl even noticing, but it was easier this way. It wasn’t’ Emily’s first runaway. 

She fit everything she needed into her backpack, and the guitar case. Emily had never had much. She lifted Tessa’s sunglasses, a pair she had admittedly coveted for weeks, and left out the front door. Walking right passed her foster father who didn’t as much as glance up. Too easy, it always was.

Now she had a few hours to burn. Time to spend in the city as it went to bed, time she wanted to use to say goodbye to it. She had no idea if she’d ever see it again. Likely she wouldn’t even survive the trip. This W.V. guy could just be a trap, but if it was, she was good at getting out of places. You just had to look like you belonged. But first destroying the letter.

[hr]

When the time came for her to check in she was careful to keep her concentration. Keeping herself visible was an effort, only ever easy when she played, but that wasn’t an option while checking in for a flight. She had some difficulty at the counter; people seemed to not realize she was the end of the line and kept cutting in front of her. When she finally did get checked in, no checked bags, she next had to tackle security. That one she let herself slip a bit, allowing only the briefest of inspection. Not that she had anything illegal with her, but it was easier and faster. 

Emily had only flown once, a very long time ago, and then she couldn’t have said she was glad for the assigned seating, but now she was, it meant that she didn’t have to worry about being sat on. That had happened once in school. For the most part people just avoided her. Maybe that guy was less perceptive, or had done it on purpose, she couldn’t say. She wondered if anyone else on the plane would be like her. How many were there out there?

She watched the plane taxi up. As she stood there she spun her phone, wondering if she leave it, or keep it. If the government were really after her, would they be able to track it? A spike of paranoia blazed through Emily and she let herself blend for a moment and then dropped the phone in a business man’s briefcase. He didn’t notice. 

Then the call for her flight was made.