Run Faster

The story of Dakota, a normal teenage girl - or at least she thought until she is sent on an FBI mission to rescue her kidnapped father and stop nuclear weapons from being manufactured.


1. Chapter 1


  I draw in a sharp breath and smack the button on my left. I only suggest alarm clocks to people who like starting every morning with a heart attack. I rise to my feet and tiptoe to the room adjacent to mine. I open the door a crack and peer in. My mother is passed out on the bed-as always. I shake her shoulder, which causes her to jump. Also a good way to start every morning with a heart attack.   “Mom, when did you get home last night?” I asked.   She made a confused face, as if she was trying to remember. “3:30?” she guessed, “4:00?” I glanced at her digital clock. 7:30.   “Can you work?”   Another confused face. “Yes?”   “Can I have a definite answer?”   “Yes.”   “In that case, up and at ‘em.”   My mother rolled out of bed with a moan and trudged to the bathroom. “Where’s my…”   “Top shelf on the left.”   “Thanks.”   I went back to my own bathroom. There wasn’t much to take care of with me. I brushed my teeth and ran my fingers through my short hair. Whereas my mother had to apply 20 pounds of makeup, tie her hair up in a tight bun, and do some other cosmetic stuff I didn’t really understand.   “Someday you’ll understand, Dakota,” she had once said, “Looks are everything in this world. If I didn’t take the time to look good in the morning how else do you think I would sell cars?”   “By not drinking until midnight every night,” I replied, “And having good deals at the dealership.”   She would chuckle. “Oh, you.”   I donned my clothing, jeans and a sweatshirt, and went downstairs to prepare breakfast. I retrieved eggs, milk, flour, sugar, a bowl, and a pan from various locations in the kitchen. Our whole house was fairly small-a kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a living room. It wasn’t anything to brag about.  I put the eggs, flour, milk, and sugar in the bowl and mixed them. Then, I put the mix in the pan and cooked it. By the time my mother was all prettied up I was halfway done with breakfast and had hers out on the table. She looked at the pancakes as if they were from another planet.   “Eat up,” I said between chews.   “I’m not all that hungry. I’ll pass.”   “Mom, are you feeling okay?”   “I’ll be fine once I have some coffee.” She nodded and walked over to the coffee machine.   “Well, I’m off,” I declared, “I’ve got a big day ahead of me.” Oh boy, did I.
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