Postby TheDrummer94 » Thu Apr 05, 2012 9:45 pm
After driving for a few hours, I arrived at my small apartment. I walked in the door, and turned on the bare light. I looked around the room. A nightstand. A table. A bed. A small TV. A closet where my clothes hung. A cell phone charger was plugged into the wall, and rested on the nightstand. I attached my phone to it. I kicked my shoes off, threw off my jacket, and hit the bed. Sleep overtook me.
I woke up the next day around four o'clock in the afternoon. The phone was ringing. Without opening my eyes, I grabbed the receiver, and brought it to me ear.
"Hello?" I groaned, still half asleep.
"Hello, Vincent."
I sat up in bed.
"Who is this?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"You know who it is, Vincent," the other end of the phone told me. "Now, we're going to meet up. The warehouse. Five o'clock."
"I'm not even dressed, man," I made up an excuse.
"Yes, you are. What you were wearing last night is fine."
The line went dead. I got up and looked at myself in the reflection of the television. I sighed. I grabbed my wallet, and grabbed my jacket. I put my shoes on, and headed out the door.
The warehouse was where we had first met. He never told me his name. He never told me any more information that what I needed. Last time we met, he barely said two words to me. He just gave me the envelope, and then he left.
The first card was in that envelope.
'Carolyn'.
My old car pulled up to the warehouse. A man in a suit was standing in the middle of the room, His hands hung at his sides. He looked stern. Almost robotic. His hair was as dark as the sunglasses that rested on his eyes. It was short. Neat. Exacting.
"Vincent," he said in that demanding voice. A voice that would do anything to get what it wants. Not desperation. Determination.
"My friends call me Vince."
"I guess that means I'll call you Vincent."
There was an awkward pause. I stared at his glasses. I can only guess that he was staring at my eyes as well.
"Here is your pay," he said as he tossed me an envelope. I opened it. One. Two. Three. Four. Five hundred dollars cash.
"Thank you, man."
"I have a name, you know," He said. "I use yours. Why don't you use mine?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Collins."
He motioned to me with his hands.
"What did you think of your first job?"
"It was alright I guess. Gave me a headache."
"Was she a screamer?"
"No, just the fact that I was taking her away from her life kinda gave me a headache."
"Just one of the drawbacks of the game, Vincent."
He took his glasses off to reveal two piercing blue eyes. His left eye bore a scar that ran through his eye brow until just above the bridge of his nose.
"Is that from the game?"
"Ah," He said, moving towards me. "This scar is not. It is from a childhood accident."
"Okay, let's cut the bullshit," I said, throwing my hands up. "I'm not a kidnapper."
"My observations serve me otherwise," he said. "It appears to me that you kidnapped a young woman last night, and did it with complete perfection. There was not a trace left of her."
"That was easy, though."
"Only to a skilled kidnapper."
"I just told you, I'm done with this."
"Oh, are you?" Mr. Hancock asked me. "Now, I have you on tape saying that you just kidnapped a girl, and that you thought it was easy to do. I have proof that you accepted five hundred dollars cash to do so. This is the third time that you have visited me, even though you know I am wanted by the authorities, and you have not admitted to knowing where I am. You're a felon, Vincent. You have no other options."
"I could crack your skull open, and then walk out of here."
"I don't think that is a very wise option at this point in your life, Vincent. You couldn't take another time in prison. You've already done two years for assault. It would be a lot more rough this time around, considering the people I have behind bars. You lay one finger on me, you will drop faster than you can say 'Kidnap Incorporated.'"
I looked down at the floor and bit my lip. He had me right where he wanted me, and there was nothing I could do about it.
"Why did you call me here, Mr. Hancock?"
"You have been summoned forth today, because you are gifted at what we do here, Vincent. I've never seen another Kidnapper who had as successful a first round as you did."
"How do you judge something like that?"
"We have our ways," Mr. Hancock said, putting his shades back on. "Here is your next assignment. This one is higher end."
"I thought all we did was kidnap kids and throw them into lifestyles they didn't expect."
"No, that's not all we do here. I like that you use the term 'we'. I'm glad to see that you are now apart of us."
"Not as if I had a choice, is it?" I asked.
"Good point. But no," Mr. Hancock continued. "Party Favors is only part of what we do here. And, in all honesty, the only part of our business that has a formal name. The overall company in Kidnap Incorporated. People pay us to do what they are too afraid to do."
"Kidnap people," I explained, for my benefit.
"Exactly. That is exactly what we do. And now, for better or worse, Vincent, you are now part of this system."
He walked up to me, and patted me on the arm.
"I hope you learn to enjoy what you do, Vincent," he placed an envelope in my hand. "Here is your next assignment. Welcome aboard."
I don't even remember the drive home. Next thing I know, I'm sitting in the parking lot of my apartments, staring at the envelope that sat in front of me. I don't know how far I was going to be able to go with this. It was easy as it was happening, sure, but now, in hindsight, it's tearing me apart. Wondering how 'Carolyn''s parents would react when they find that their daughter was now missing. I made sure I didn't leave any fibers or hairs or whatever else they find at crime scenes. Footprints. Fingerprints. Whatever prints.
Still, I was five hundred dollars richer than I was before.
I opened the envelope. This target's name was Cindy. 'Cindy.' Forty five years old. Lives alone. Never been married. Owns a small town business. A hair salon. Town Hair. There was another hair salon in town, The Style, and it could no longer compete with 'Cindy's,' so the owner of the other hair salon, Holly, had requested that 'Cindy' be kidnapped for a talking to.
The kidnapping was to happen tonight. Great timing, Mr. Hancock. Great timing.
The card was set up so well. Time. Date. Location. Other notes. This other note was interesting. Supposed to look like a robbery. Told me I could keep whatever I stole.
Too bad I drive such a tiny car. Too bad I have barely any room to hide it.
But if I squatted in her house while she was with this...what was it?
Holly. I could squat in 'Cindy's' house while she was with Holly.
Maybe this lifestyle wasn't as strange as I first made it out to be.
Two hours later, and my car is parked in the driveway of 'Cindy's' house. It's huge. It's dark. No movement. After a minute, I see her. She's walking around the house, getting ready for bed. I grab the roll of duct tape, and I leave my car. I backed in, and the trunk is already popped. I knocked at the door. I did what the card told me to do. 'Arrangements have been made,' the card said.
"Hello," I said, after she answered the door. "I'm the plumber."
"A bit late for plumbing, isn't it?" She asked me, annoyed.
"I had other engagements across town all day today, ma'am, and I'm sorry about the late hour. Could you please lead me to the bathroom?"
And that was it.
The minute she started leading me to the bathroom. The minute she got in front of me. That was it. That leopard print robe she was wearing. The grey hair on her head. The slippers she was wearing. Nothing was ready. The tape now sticks to her body. It's so tight. Her screams are muffled. Following the card, I go back out to my car, and park it in the garage. I take the large fabric bag out of the trunk, and bring it in the house.
Despite her moans and struggles, I force 'Cindy' into the bag. I carry the bag to the garage, and place her in the trunk. Slam the lid.
I hop in the car, and drive to the next address on the card.
Holly's house.
I pull up and get out of the car. My card tells me that Holly is expecting me. I open the trunk of the car. Pull out the bag. Slam the trunk closed. Walk up to the door. Same routine as before.
"Hello, are you Holly?" I ask
"Yes I am," The woman on the other end of the door greets me. The shine on her leather catsuit glistens in my eye. The shine of her dyed blonde hair is as bright as the lights on the highway. "Are you here to fix the sink?"
Just as the card said she would ask.
"I am."
"Please come in."
I enter the house, and lay the bag down at Holly's feet. Holly hands me a wad of cash.
"I already paid your boss, but here's a little something extra on the side," She says. "Maybe just keep this between you and me?"
I take the money, and walk out. I wasn't going to make friends with the 'clients.' I wasn't going to screw this job up. I guess you could say I was really getting into it.
She gave me a grand. Along with everything that 'Cindy' owned that I can pawn, this has been a successful night.
I begin driving back to 'Cindy's' house. After arriving there, I go up to her room, and fall into her bed. I've been so tired lately. I don't know what it is. I'll have to see a doctor or something about it.
The screaming alarm clock wakes me up at seven thirty the next morning. It's a Wednesday, I think.
My cell phone starts ringing. It's Mr. Hancock.
To be continued.
Hope you enjoy this. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it.