“I feel a little betrayed, to be honest,” I howled, the sirens giving my madness a little extra spice this afternoon.

  “What, by your own imagination?” The handsome man hawked back, as he grabbed my sweaty palm and led me towards the next train car, and away from our would be assailants. “I think you're delirious.”

  “No,” I shot back, slipping my book into the cute backpack purse I'd slung on quickly. “I'm Ari.”

  “Ugh,” the handsome man groaned, jostling open the connecting door and guiding me through.

  I stumbled in after him, gently falling against the gentle textures of his crisply ironed jacket. Must've even been Italian fabrics. What a cheat.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, still barely able to take in anything around me... while my world seemingly crumbled.

  “Somewhere safe.” The handsome man scanned the empty car in front of us, before pulling down a latch above the entryway, securing it...for hopefully enough time.

  “What's that even mean? What's going on?”

  “Very dangerous people are after us, and we need to get away from them. Simple as that.”

  “After us? Or after you?

  “I meant what I said,” he sounded off resolutely, and headed off towards the next car ahead, with me in tow, his head whirling around and analyzing everything around us with rapid movement.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “And why should I trust you?” I quipped, at the same time wishing that I'd just kept my mouth shut for once...I know a towering feat at that.

  The handsome man turned, his stoic expression beaming down on me under a neat layer of freshly trimmed stubble. “If you don't, you may very well die.”

  I could feel all the color driving from my face, but put on a front as usual. “That's what all the boys say,” I chirped, stopping in my tracks, and shaking my hand away from him, as I still demanded some kind of answer. I waited, in a huff, for a better form of reassurance.

  The handsome man sighed. “I'll explain once we're off 'a this moving metal deathtrap.” He extended a friendly hand back out to me. “Now please.”

  The sounds of gunfire pummeled the door behind us, though luckily non-penetrative; the banging a loud affirmation that forward was indeed the best option in my mind. I took his hand, and followed him into the next car, which was...you guessed it...empty. But worse...the last car of the line. We both stared, discontent with our hand, as I looked up to him, begging for an answer.

  “What do we do now?” I asked tepidly, almost shaking his hand out of his arm for some kind of quick response.

  The handsome man looked perturbed in thought as he watched the grassy hillside pass us by outside the thick glass window, before pulling me forward into to the area between car connections, the tracks bumping along furiously beneath us. He relinquished the safety mechanism on the outside door, the warmth of the arid Italian countryside whisking inside and smacking us in the face, as the sounds of outside iron mechanisms and the natural world spewed around us as we rolled on by.

  “Can you jump?”

  “Out of a moving train?” I chimed back, flabbergasted.

  "That was kind of implied,” he responded dryly.

  I shrugged awkwardly, awkwardly, glancing back out at the slew of suited men racing through the glass with pistols in tow, before looking back to him, like a baby doe in turmoil.

  He must have assumed my answer was yes, as he took my hand, and launched us out of the train, and into flight!