This is the fourth in a series of posts that starts here.
I sat, quietly puzzled. I understood what he had said, but I
couldn’t comprehend how he could think that I had a set of balls that big.
Stealing king’s money would be a death sentence for me. And if I opted to not follow through with whatever plan
they had, my fate would be equally wrapped. Pensively, I waited for Driver to
continue. “We know a lot about King and his people and his movements. At this
point, we can guess roughly when he takes the bus down to Arizona to get his
shit, how long it takes, and how much he has when he comes back.”
He was making sense,
I knew that the meth I had been selling for about a year was coming from
Arizona, which is why I got it for so cheap. I got lucky in that aspect because
in the meth world it’s nearly impossible to find a reliable, good quality
supply. Mine came without any cut, straight from the Mexican border on a bus
delivered to my friend’s house. My guy didn’t get high so I never worried about
being shorted or finding any “extra weight” in my bag. I had often thought of
taking the trip myself because realistically, I could spend $150 on a round-trip
ticket and less than $300 per ounce which I could turn around up here for
$1,200 each with no problems. And taking the bus was safe; there was no x-ray
scanner or baggage check to go through. The only problem was I didn’t know
anybody in Arizona so I never went.
Driver could tell I had lost my concentration and cleared
his throat. “Now, we don’t know how well you know King, but that doesn’t
matter. What matters is that you can tell us when you drop your payment off
with him, and how much he shows you he has left. We know he likes to show off
his kilos. That’s all you have to do for now. As soon as we’re comfortable with
the information you start giving us, we will move forward. We believe that
within two weeks, he will have over $100,000 in cash, and that’s what we want.”
Dick. “In order for us to trust you and let you go tonight, we need you to do
something.” He picked up a laptop from an end table next to a plush leather
chair. It was a cheap knock-off that looked brand new. I guessed that it would
serve whatever purpose it was going to serve tonight, and be thrown in a river
somewhere. He opened it up, turned it on, and set it in my lap. “We need you to
show us the addresses of two family members.” Shit. I wish I had been born with
a common last name like Smith or Anderson, but my last name is Zxxxqqzzqqxe. It
would be impossible to look up people with that last name that I wasn’t related
to.
For the first time that night, I was actually afraid; this
had become real. I wasn’t afraid, nor have I ever been afraid for my own life.
I had been in and out of jails and institutions my whole life, and on more than
one occasion, I had tried to end my own life with and without the aid of considerable
measurements of medications. I was afraid that I would fuck something up like I
always do, and that somebody in my family, somebody I should be close to,
somebody I hadn’t seen for years would be injured or worse. My hand began to
tremble imperceptibly, and I could feel my skin tighten up around my eyes. If I
had spent the last ten years properly hydrating myself, I would probably have
broken a sweat. I got the feeling they knew my paradigm had shifted, and they
let it sink in. It was almost as if they had some compassion for a moment, they
knew how difficult this would be for me.
I had to do something, and I knew if I evaded them in any
way, they would sniff out my deception and take quick action. I remembered the
shovels in the trunk, and I figured they had my last name from the credit cards
in my wallet, so I poked at the keyboard. “This is fucked up,” I said in anger,
“these people have nothing to do with me anymore.” It didn’t matter, my
objection was only met with silence. I did a Google search on my family name
and was shocked at how fast they gave up information for my mother. She had
moved since the address was updated on the web, but I didn’t mention that. Next
we scrolled through a bunch of mugshots of me that had accumulated over the
years, and they had a good laugh at some of them, and at the bottom of the page
was my uncle Steve Zxxxqqzzqqxe. I hadn’t seen him in over a decade, but I knew
he had two children and had been in the same house since the last time we met.
It didn’t immediately show his address, but there were hundreds of links that
offered to show me his every detail with the input of a prepaid credit card
which Goggles happily furnished. They were prepared, I’ll give them that.
Driver copied down all of the necessary information and said, “Now we will only
use this stuff as a last resort. Obviously we will come after you first, but it
puts our minds at ease to have this written down. I assure you that I do not
want any harm to come to you or your family, this was just necessary as backup
in case you try to screw things up for us.” I was hardly paying attention,
these guys really had me by the balls.
Driver took the laptop from me and set it aside. He then
surprised me by handing me my wallet, my phone, and my drugs which appeared to
have been unmolested. “Do you want to get high?” It was a loaded question, I’m
an addict, it’s all I ever want. But even meth is a social drug, and it can be
fun smoking a pipe with a circle of friends. But I had no desire to share
anything with these guys, I wanted to burn the house to the ground and shit on
the rubble. I felt a burning anger deep inside. I stated quite matter of factly,
“I need to take a shit.” Goggles laughed, and Driver said, “Give me the phone
back, and the bathroom is down the hall on the left.” I did as he asked.
Walking down the hall I saw pictures of his wife and baby
boy. I wished I recognized her, but I didn’t. I felt hatred toward the still
frames. I wanted to rip them off the walls, I wanted to punch through the glass
frame and impact his family. The hall seemed to narrow and I thought I was
going to pass out. I made it into the bathroom and turned on the light and the
fan and shut the door. I twisted the handle on the faucet and waited for the
hot water while I stared at myself in the mirror. I saw a hollow man, void of
all life and feeling. I wanted to fly into a fit of rage, I wanted to smash
everything I saw, and make them take my life right there because I did not give
a fuck a long time ago, and I certainly didn’t give a fuck now. If I trashed
what I could before they got to me, maybe somebody would notice, or question
something about these people or the house. But then maybe they would kill my
uncle and his kids anyhow. I grabbed a towel and soaked it, and then my face.
There was only one way out of here, I had to do as they said for now, and think
of something when I was under less pressure. I calmed myself, dried my face, and
opened the door.
When I came back into the living room they were all standing
by the door waiting for me. “It’s time to go.” Driver pointed toward the way we
had entered. They had all of my things gathered together in a bag and Goggles
handed them to me. Driver said, “I’m sorry about this.” Everything went black.
Just before I was knocked unconscious, I had the thought that I was floating.
For the first time since this ordeal started, I felt free.
