The Things They Know

She hated being on the bus the most. She would sit halfway from the back and halfway from the front, dead centre, everytime, and she would sit rigidly and stare directly ahead. Occasionally, she would glance to the person nearest to her, a suspicious look in her brown eyes, and then look away, mortified, when they caught her eye.

Georgie knew that they were all watching her. She could feel her skin prickling, and her palms became sweaty as she clenched her fists. Nausea rose in her throat and she looked out of the window, breathing heavily, trying desperately to think about other things. She couldn’t be sick. Then they would all know that she was onto them.

There was a man sitting on the other side of the aisle to her, a little way in front, and it was he who Georgie was watching closely. He certainly looked like one of them. One of the ones who were after her.

He had the briefcase and the suit. He had the cell phone that he flipped out every five seconds and checked. What sealed the deal in Georgie’s eyes was the fact that, every so often, he would turn and look right back at her. Georgie didn’t want to look at him. She must not arouse suspicion. If they knew that she was working out that they were after her, she wouldn’t be surprised if they shot her right here on the bus.

He always got on the same bus, at the same time, as Georgie, but he always got off a stop before. Georgie knew that this was just some plan to get her to relax, but she wasn’t going to fall for that one. It was the oldest trick in the book for people of his kind. Georgie knew how they worked. She knew how they would lure her into a false sense of security, and then they would strike. She was not going to let that happen. Under no circumstances was she going to allow herself to be taken out by this pigs.

The man’s stop was coming up. Georgie tensed up, though she didn’t look at the man. She knew what he would do anyway. He would gather up his briefcase a few seconds before the bus pulled over and came to a halt. He would stand slowly, brushing down his suit with one hand, and then he would turn and scan the bus as he got off.

Georgie knew he was staring right at her, everytime. She knew he was thinking that she was the one. She was the one they were against. Georgie had faceless enemies, and she didn’t even know why.

They knew why. They knew everything about her; Georgie knew that for a fact. Georgie knew that they knew every single detail, from the basics like her height and weight, to the little details like when she was younger she had almost choked on a chicken bone and hadn’t eaten chicken since. Or that when she was four she took the scissors in the kitchen to her own fringe and had a strange haircut for months. Or that she had meant to be called Georgina, but when she had been born her parents decided that Georgina seemed too long for a baby, and, as she would be called Georgie anyway, Georgie would do.

They knew all of this, and now the man’s stop had come up, and he hadn’t got off. The bus was carrying on, and the man was still sitting there, and Georgie could feel the world closing in on her.

He was going to get her today. Today was they day they had all been waiting for – the day they would finally get Georgie.

She sat with her hot forehead pressed against the cold window, her heart hammering, feeling the sick rising in her throat. Her hair was sticking to her head and she gathered up her bag, grasping it tightly, ready to run as soon as she could get off of the bus. There was no way she was going out without a fight. They would have to keep on trying to catch her.

The bus was coming to a stop now, and Georgie knew that, in a few seconds, it would be the moment she had been dreading for months and months. It would be the moment that had stalked her nightmares, causing her to wake up in the middle of the night, in a blind panic, hyperventilating, covered in cold sweat. It would be the moment which the mere thought of could reduce her to a stuttering, quivering wreck.

She felt tears sting her eyes as she thought about all of the things she could so easily miss out on. When she had been younger and dreaming of being a vet, she had never even thought about the possibility that she might be stalked for her final months by a briefcase wielding assassin.

The bus stopped. Georgie had dived for the door before the man had even finished brushing down his suit with one hand.

Take that, sucker, she thought triumphantly, as she leapt off of the bus and onto the wet pavement. The autumn leaves stuck to her shoes and she kicked them away in a panic, knowing it would be quite easy for them to trace her whereabouts through the moved leaves. It wouldn’t be that hard, surely? Georgie couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of technology these people had at their fingertips.

She looked wildly from her left to her right. People were walking along the street, but they were all looking at her. Georgie knew what they were all thinking.

That’s the one, there. Trying to get away. Trying to make her escape. Look at her, she’s pathetic. She’ll never get away.

Georgie could feel her chest tightening, as though somebody had got a belt and wrapped it around her and was pulling it harder and harder, and soon she was wondering if she would pass out. Suddenly, her eyes widened, and, startled, she wondered if this was all part of the plan. She had been to McDonald’s before she had boarded the bus, what happens if the workers had been against her, too?

They had been – she knew that now. They knew about her, and they had spiked her food and now she was going to pass out and then she would be totally helpless. Well, she wasn’t going to let it happen!

The man with the briefcase was off the bus now and had started towards her. She gave him her most determined glare and turned, pushing her legs into motion, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

One foot, other foot, one foot, other foot, she thought to herself. Keep going!

He was behind her now, and everyone Georgie looked at watched her closely, making sure she didn’t get away. One boy rode his bike right out in front of her; Georgie dodged the attack and carried on pushing herself forwards.

The man was getting closer now. He was right behind her, and Georgie broke into a trot. She could still hear him behind her, and she began to feel the panic setting in worse than she had ever experienced. That old woman putting her cat out – this must be some sort of signal.

Oh, God, there was a car heading around the corner, and Georgie knew instinctively that it was coming for her. A man backed his car into his drive clearing the road, and Georgie knew this was it. She stopped.

If she was going to be taken out today, she was going to face it instead of trying to run away. She stood still, breathing heavily, desperately trying to suck air into her lungs.

The car was getting closer.

Georgie felt tears spring to her eyes and she felt herself trembling.

Her heart thumped faster with every step he took closer to her.

Her breathing became shorter every metre the car covered.

She could feel her blood drumming in her ears and she felt as though she was going to be sick, and the man and car were approaching, and for a brief second she thought she could see her life flash before her eyes, and then –

The man walked past her, and the car drove on.

Georgie stood quite still, fists clenched, autumn leaves falling around her and mixing with the rainwater on the ground. Drops of water from the trees mingled with the tears on her face. Gradually her fists unclenched and her heartbeat slowed.

Relief washed over her for a few brief seconds, and she let out a squeak which was somewhere inbetween and sob and a laugh.

Then, she spotted a man walking his dog on the other side of the street. He looked at her, and if Georgie wasn’t mistaken, the dog looked at her too.

She clenched her fists again, and turned and hurried home. Of course, they knew everything about her. They were testing her reaction.

They would try again soon, and once more, she was the only one in this entire world who didn’t know when it was coming, or who was going to be behind it.

Georgie reached her house. She let herself in, locked the door firmly behind her, closed all of the curtains and unhooked the phone line. She was safe for the time being.

She glanced out from between a gap in her curtains. The man was still there, with his dog, a little way up the street. Georgie’s heart skipped a beat and she sank to the floor under the window, burying her head in her hands and grasping her hair. Of course, with the things they knew about her, they would always be around.