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I look up at the man who addressed me, my palms slick with sweat while my heat pumped so hard it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest at any moment. In the dim light, it was hard to make out his features. He looked to be around 30 and had an air of authority like someone who’s used to being obeyed. I relaxed a little bit as he talked until he mentioned his job description. My eyes glanced towards the opening of the alley. It seemed miles away. Fleetingly I thought of making a run for it, bolting away like a scared rabbit but then the sound of the gun shot echoes through my mind. While it’s possible it wasn’t related to Prefect Wallace, I don’t want to take my chances.

Then he mentioned the note. [b]”Note?”[/b] I respond under my breath. He doesn’t seem to hear me. I wonder if he’s referring to the first of the second. Instead of calming me down, however, this new realization just increased my anxiety. Was this some sort of trap? Or was a Prefect really working with the Rebels? Either way, I was in way over my head. Suddenly a quick shot to the back of the head doesn’t seem like such a bad way to go. Hopefully it would be quick, if not painless. I doubted if the Rebels could cut me a better option. Rumor was a Rebel who got caught were tortured for weeks prior to their execution. That was, of course, if they didn’t just disappear into thin air, leaving not eve their dead bodies behind. 

Silently, I walked behind Prefect Wallace, mentally tracing the quickest path to the exit if the opportunity arises. We stopped by a nondescript metal door flushed against the side of the building. Prefect Wallace pounds on it while I wait. Images ran into my mind about what could possibly be hiding behind it- a seedy club, a drug den, a crime boss’s lair, a torture chamber. The last thing I was expecting was a cook still in his food service uniform. I stood awkwardly, shifting from one leg to the other while I watched Wallace interact with the man. It felt like I was ease dropping on some family reunion, although the two men bore no resemblance that I could see.

What interested me the most was the book Wallace was handed. The golden letter sketched into the cover shone from the light behind the door. [i]”A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens”[/i] Was this book a fake some kind shell to carry things in? While I didn’t know every book in the world, I did know my literary classics and I knew for certain Charles Dickens hadn’t written that one. 

[i][b]"And you young man what is your name? I know his story now I want to know yours. Talk to us we brothers in arms."[/i][/b]
The question started me out of my own thoughts.

I reached behind and scratched the back of my head. It was something I did when I was nervous. It drove my mother crazy. [b]”Well, I’m a librarian at the Main Library.”[/b] I waited to see if this was enough of an explanation. It wasn’t. [b]”I found a note in the book Great Expectations.”[/b] I paused again. I wondered how much these guys knew. [b]”It was checked out almost ten years ago, but there was a note inside that had the location…”[/b] I didn’t want to say what was on the note. I felt, between the police, and these two men, I had jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. But the words on the note from today race through my mind. [i]”We know that you know”[/i] [b]”The note had the location and time of the bombing on the seventeenth. It was an accident. I didn’t know it was there. I destroyed it when I realized what it was. And I didn’t tell anyone, I swear.”[/b] The last words came running out, full force. [b]”Then I got a note today to come here. So I here I am.”[/b]

I’d like to say my confession made me feel better. In truth, I wanted to vomit.