Quandary 4

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.

Quandary 3

Darkness, the recurring theme of this traumatic evening. I’d had a gun and a knife pointed at me, I’d been hit in the head with an unknown weapon, and I’d been tied up and thrown in a trunk. I had also been drugged but that was of my own choosing so that didn’t count. The meth coursing through my system was probably the only reason I wasn’t sleeping soundly during the ride to terminus mysterious.

At least it wasn’t a bumpy ride, I mean as far as trunks go, this one was quite roomy. The three shovels had me concerned, I mean where the hell would we be going that they would have enough time to dig a fucking grave, we’re in Rochester, MN not the fucking desert. And why would they kill me? Maybe this was just a scare tactic; something to make it look like they were serious. I believed them.

We drove for twenty minutes or so at highway speed and started to slow down. I had done enough drug dealing and driving to recognize that we were probably in one of the smaller towns surrounding the big city. There was a series of turns followed by a gradual incline of what I assumed was a driveway. A bump. Another. Then the car shifted gears to park and the engine was turned off. I heard the distinct noise of an automatic garage door being shut, followed by some muffled words. They were probably saying something about letting me go with all of my belongings and forgetting the whole thing. Or something like that.

The trunk opened and I was expecting a gun or a grenade or a packet of anthrax to be thrust in my face, but it was just Dumpy, this time with a shirt. I thought it was funny how he looked like a computer programmer now versus a gun-toting racist just a short while ago. It’s amazing what a little cotton can do. Dumpy said, “Alright, you can get out.” He offered no assistance and I had a difficult time with my hands tied behind my back. Everything seemed to get in the way of every part of my body trying to maneuver myself out of the cargo hold, but I finally made my way out. He turned me and pushed me toward a door that lead into a house.

It was just a regular house. Actually it was a really big, beautiful, modern home. The only things that seemed off were the closed blinds and a tied-up, naked, bleeding man now standing in the kitchen. Dumpy untied my wrists and motioned toward the sink before saying, “You can clean yourself up a little. If you make any attempt to escape, you will regret it.” Fair enough. I nodded and grabbed a few paper towels and tried to soak up the blood on my head but it had already dried. Add water, repeat.

I looked around for an obvious escape route just in case some miracle occurred and I found an opportune moment, but all I saw was Goggles looking at me. He cocked his head, “Don’t even think about it. You’ll never make it out of here. Come put your clothes on and have a seat.” I obliged, as if I had a choice.

I dressed myself which I do almost every day. I felt around for my wallet, a pound of meth, but they were nowhere to be found. I heard a light thud on the coffee table in the center of the room. “Hey! There’s my meth!” I try to have a sense of humor everywhere I go. For the first time the driver spoke, “For now, let’s call it “our” meth.” He smiled and pointed to a chair in which I believed he wanted me to sit.

Driver was a pretty normal looking guy compared to the other two. Goggles, as it turned out was a fairly dainty little man with rotten teeth and a crooked smile that framed them perfectly. He wore a tattered wife-beater and had veiny sinuous muscles that flexed frantically with his every sudden jerky move. His eyed darted around constantly and one of his eyes seemed to always be catching up to the other. Driver on the other hand appeared to be well groomed. If I had to guess, which I did, I would say that this was his house, and his family was gone for the night, probably in some hotel while business was attended to. His hair was neatly coiffed, skin toned, and he wore a shirt with no holes or dirt. He also had all of his teeth.

Driver recited his words internally before speaking, “First I want you to know that we have no problem with you. We actually chose you because you are known for being a little bolder than some of the tweakers out there-- a risk-taker. Sorry about the head, Mike can get a little carried away when he gets a kidnapping job.” Mike was surely an alias for Goggles. Driver continued, “We didn’t put you through all of this for a pound of meth. Actually, we have no intention of taking anything from you at all. If you are cooperative, and we believe that you will follow the instructions we give you tonight, you will get to leave with everything you had on you when you left King’s place. I’ll get right to the point; we need you to steal your boss’s supply money.” They wanted me to steal from the most dangerous man I had ever met before tonight. And it looked like I didn’t have a choice.

Okay, folks….. Here’s the scoop. This and the previous two posts have been entirely a work of fiction created by me. I wanted to give it a shot since I had never tried anything like it. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I felt like I could have gone on and on. I would really like to hear from you and what you thought about it. Did I put you there with me? Did it seem like it could have been real based on what I had written so far? Did I go too far? Did you catch on that I was making this up? Please, I welcome all comments. Also, would you keep reading it if I kept going, now knowing that it’s all fantasy?

Thanks for reading!

Quandary 2

Darkness. There was no difference in what I saw with my eyes open or closed. I opted to keep them closed because I was in excruciating pain. I felt blood trickle down from my temple through my greasy hair and down to the ground from my nose. Immediately above me, a man with putrid breath was breathing erratically, searching for his words. A moment of silence, then he spoke. “I know they call you Vinnie.” He began to feel around for my pockets and quickly found my wallet and removed it. “Now I have all of your information, just in case. With this I can find everybody in your family, all of your friends, and even get access to your financial records if necessary.” At this point I didn’t think there was any point in mentioning that none of my credit cards would ever work and there was no driver’s license in the leather tri-fold.

“I work with an organization that has beef with your boss. Yeah, I know King is in there. Right now there are two choices you can make. You can listen to what I have to say, leave, and follow my instructions and live and maybe work for us one day. Or, you can listen to what I have to say, leave and go tell King what happened tonight, and I promise you and he and your families will be dead in less than a day.” This was the second time in twenty minutes that somebody had threatened me and my family with murder. I wasn’t really scared for myself, but I never wanted anything bad to happen to my family because of the stupid life I had chosen, so I listened.

“I’m sorry I had to hit you, it was the only way I know how to make sure somebody really pays attention. And now that I have your attention, I need you to listen carefully.” In the distance I could hear the escalating noise of a vehicle driving toward the alley. It seemed like days since I had seen light, and now it was fast approaching from the side street. The vehicle turned in and I was momentarily relieved and hoped that the man would run in fear and I would be able to escape into the darkness. It became clear that this car was part of the plan. “You and I are going to get up and get in the car. When we get in, you are going to take off all of your clothes so we know you don’t have any weapons. Capiche?”  I nodded. I was really nervous now, I had over $10,000 in drugs on me that I still owed for and I knew they would find it.

The car drew near and I opened my eyes again to see what was going on with the added light. I caught just a glimpse of what appeared to be a robot before the headlights went out. Night vision. The guy was wearing fucking night vision goggles! God damn tweakers.  It made sense now that he was able to see me so well to follow and incapacitate me. These guys were really organized.

He shoved me toward the car and the back door opened up and I was forced in. I hadn’t even hit the seat before I had a 9mm shoved in my face. On the other end of the gun was a shirtless, fat, bald, skin-head looking man with a giant swastika on his chest. In my head I named him Dumpy. Dumpy was a very angry man. He yelled, “Take yer fuckin’ clothes off, man!” Goggles got in the passenger seat and the car pulled away. Slowly I began fiddling with the buttons on my shirt. The meth was in a giant Ziploc bag against my back in my waistband. Dumpy said, “Hurry up!” I knew there was no point in delaying, so I undressed as quickly as I could. I didn’t even try to hide the bag; I knew that would just agitate the situation. I threw the bag at Dumpy and said, “There you fuckin’ go. That just sealed my fate.” Goggles turned around and said, “That’s not even close to what we want.” The car stopped in another alley a few blocks away and I was ordered out at gunpoint. Quickly my shirt was used to tie my hands behind my back and I was thrown into the trunk. The lid slammed shut and I was alone in the dark again. For only a moment, there was complete silence and I actually felt safe.

There was a small amount of light coming from the running lights so I could see my surroundings. Right in front of me were three shovels.

To be continued…