Train Spotting Novels & Stories

He mumbles to himself as he turns the steering wheel towards the highway. He was driving for about 15-20 minutes looking at nearby places to see if there was any lodging or a hotel. Surely, he didn’t expect to just find out by asking from hotel to hotel so he stopped the car on the side and entered her details in the detection software. The detection software alerts the user whenever the target person signs into a public place or private place with credentials entered on a computer system (even using an alias it works many times). He thought he was wasting his time driving around in the dark with his headlights on until suddenly a figure was made visible lying on the ground. Considering his

“Tyson!” I sprint toward the parking lot behind the motel. Three black SUVs sit hidden beneath a collapsing metal shelter. Fresh tire tracks surround them. Not old. Recent. Hope explodes inside me. I rush forward. Maybe they’re still.. No. The doors hang open. Empty. I inhale deeply. Nothing. No scent. None. I move to the second vehicle. Nothing. The third. Still nothing. It’s impossible. Every vehicle carries scent. Drivers. Passengers, oil, sweat, fear, something.

As he turned to leave, Emily found herself watching his retreating figure. Her hands trembled slightly as she zipped up her bag. Her earlier worries resurfaced with even greater intensity. If people were watching her, was it because of Noah? He was powerful. He had influence. He had secrets. And secrets had a way of attracting dangerous attention. The thought lingered as she made her way toward the exit. Outside, a black, glossy car was already parked by the entrance. Noah’s driver stood beside the open door, waiting for her. “Miss Petal,” he said with a respectful nod.

I don't pardon spies. “Boss, we found tire tracks out back—two sets. One belongs to a black SUV, the other to a motorcycle. Looks like they split up about thirty minutes ago.” “Split up?” I hissed. “Exactly. Someone’s feeding them our moves.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Trace both directions. Use drones if you have to. And I want the mole alive.” “Copy that.” he said and left the room immediately.

The van rumbled to a stop. We moved. The street was silent, empty. We blended into the night, masked shadows among the trees. The trap was already in place—tiny, spiked explosives lined the road, ready to shred his tires the second they made contact. A single buzz in my ear. **"Target approaching."** The headlights slashed through the darkness, twin orbs of white against the black. I inhaled. Waited. The car hit the trap. A violent pop. A scream of rubber against pavement. The vehicle skidded to a halt, metal groaning as it jerked to a stop.

Swiftly analyzing the terrain and their positions, I maneuvered with precision, zigzagging through narrow alleys and darting around obstacles. The sound of screeching tires and roaring engines echoed behind me, urging me to push my mechanical limits further. My sensors monitored the incoming vehicles, gathering data on their speed, trajectory, and any potential weaknesses I could exploit. With each passing moment, my algorithms adjusted and adapted, formulating strategies to outsmart my relentless pursuers.

Smoke puffed from the front left tire. Fuck! This wasn't happening! I was going not ready for this. I threw the gear into park and stepped out. That’s when I saw it. Spike strip. Metal teeth. Placed across the road like a goddamn invitation. What the heck? The was a setup. Definitely! I didn’t even have time to swear before the first shadow moved in the trees. “Tessa, STAY DOWN!” I shouted, drawing my gun and pivoting toward the treeline.

And on each tire—several homemade, sharpened triangular steel spikes gleamed in the pale light. Spike strips. Someone had planted these here. 'An ambush!' This was no coincidence. Those triangular spikes were designed specifically to puncture tires. And they'd been placed perfectly—right in his blind spot. Someone had gotten here before him. And they were fast. Then, an engine hummed in the distance. Jake's eyes narrowed. A minute later, a beat-up yellow taxi rolled into view, stopping about twenty meters from Jake's RV. The doors opened. Two men and a woman stepped out.