I'm caught in the netherworld, surrounded by chaos and destruction. I was escorted into my situation while seeking shelter to escape from a bunch of stone-cold killers. This is a horrible situation I got myself into. Sadly, I don't think anyone would miss me. Why would anyone even bother searching for me? I'm not a good dude. But that's a story for another time. I need to figure out how to get out of my current predicament. Truthfully, you aren't going to pity me when you find out I'm a paid killer. But there are way more awful people in the world than me. I'm paid to exterminate the existence of people worse than me. Yet here I am, in the underworld pit when I should have been up there, enjoying the cool air and admiring the foliage change. There is something about crisp, cool air that screams fall around Halloween.
Before all this mess happened, I was waiting to receive the 2nd payment of my last kill in this motel near Big Valley Pines. I like motels like this one or cabins because I am far away from the heat and close enough to meet the person who held the remaining cash for my hit job. I only take money in hand. You aren't going to CashApp me fifty thousand dollars. The problem with collecting the other half of the money owed is that you depend on the payer to come through. I guess that is one of the drawbacks to the job. Well, that and killing someone.
I was bored, so I left my room and wandered about. I don't use a smartphone that can be pinged; I don't have a Netflix account, so I'm not streaming movies. I'm just sitting in my room, bored, trying to occupy my time. I'm staying in an area they call the bible belt of America. I'll search for the bible and thumb through it. Read the local ad paper left on the bedside table and review all the restaurants in the area. No, I don't order food either. I'll do some pared-down CrossFit. For some odd reason, I will remove the artwork from the room walls and inspect it. Then maybe take a shower and peer through the window. Man, will I peer through the window in an obsessive, paranoid style.
During my journey outside, I will sit near the pool from time to time. This isn't a resort, but strangely, the pool is heated. I watch ordinary people go about their lives. Families in the pool, lovers in the jacuzzi, other psychopaths overseeing it all. Yes, there are others out there like me. They just haven't dared to do what I do, or they hide it pretty well. Deviant behavior can be easily hidden. I can't explain to you why I even do what I do. But you clearly have to be a psychopath to kill a fellow human being. Which would explain my current predicament, I suppose. I wish I could point to a particular event that morphed me into a killer. There just isn't an excellent back-story to my murderous ways. I lived an everyday life, raised by both parents. I have several siblings who have excellent jobs. My sister is a doctor of medicine. She has a clue that I do bad things because I go to her when I need wound care due to a hit gone wrong. She never asks; therefore, I never tell. However, if she decided to turn her intuition into curiosity, dug into my life, and found out I was a hitman. I wouldn't be mad if she turned me in. I love her too much to hurt her.
Where was I? Oh, my murderous way. I'm a gamer. A damn good gamer. I don't need cheat codes or practice; I have the dexterity of Michael Jordan but in the gaming world. So, here I was, playing Call of Duty, talking crap on my headset, enjoying my Legendary status leveled up to 850, but only because I am capped. This dude befriended me. So our crap talking went from gaming headsets to messenger, to text, then phone calls, and finally, meet-ups. She sensed something in me. I said dude earlier, but she used a voice manipulator when she played and spoke with her on the phone. Gamer girls catch so much hell when they play, so I get why she lied. She constructed this world outside the game and made a network for mercenaries. She sold a good bill of goods. What can I say? She was like 2011 Bitcoin, and I wanted to get involved before her stock went sky-high.
After getting bored by the pool, I checked out the vending machine and grabbed a few snacks before returning to my room. After choosing Sun Chips, Muscle Milk, and a Snickers bar, I decided to check with the man up front for any messages. This front desk guy has to know something is up with me. I have been asking him for messages for the last 3 days. He most likely thinks, "Who doesn't have a cell phone nowadays?" I saw he was busy as I approached the desk, so I turned toward the rows of tourist pamphlets near the entrance. All this tourist trap nonsense makes me laugh. Do people not pre-plan nowadays?
The last guest check-in is complete, so I walk over to see if there are any messages. "No messages, but hey, if you're bored, there is a ghost trail behind the motel you can check out." "What business is it of yours if I'm bored or not, buddy?" The kid got nervous and flustered. That doesn't seem normal for a dude that deals with people all day. "Well, you were umm,( he was stammering) looking at those pamphlets. I assumed you wanted something to do with being alone and all. I could send you a girl, too."
"Just messages, friend. Only messages," I told him sternly. "By the way, focus on your job," I muttered as I returned to my room.
The thing is, in this game, there is no one I can trust. How can I depend on the person paying me the rest of my money after I do the job? I got a good cash cut up front, but I want the rest of my money. Planning and then executing my game plan isn't easy. And also, the risk is bigger. Today, cameras are everywhere, and people and their cell phones record all the darn time. What is the point of taking out the person who shafted my money? Then I really won't get paid. However, an assassin has to have his standards, I suppose. I need a new profession.
Sitting in this room is driving me crazy, and I'm overthinking. That front desk kid is making me curious. He certainly was inquisitive about my goings on here. In the future, I need to stop being cheap and buy a throw-down phone because being affordable is the only reason I don't have one. It's classic me. But, if I was smart, I wouldn't trust him. If only there was a sign to tell me I was in danger.
The motel room phone rings>
"Hello? Yes, okay. But I don't remember telling you to call me if a message was left. Hello?" He hung up.
That was probably my sign, but I'm getting stir-crazy and want to go. But I promised myself to be extra careful. I need to check things out before I head over. But first, I will call him back and see if he can deliver the message.
<pause, phone rings, and rings, and rings>
1,283 words
SEE PART II
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