“What’s the catch?”
“I really haven’t found one yet. I mean, I guess I don’t know exactly what I’m moving, but part of me doesn’t care. All of the other work I was doing before was killing me, and the pay was garbage compared to this. Say, you wouldn’t happen to be interested in a related job, would you?”
“Moving packages? I don’t know.”
“No. I was told that there’s a position open for delivery and security, and thinking about it now, it seems right up your alley.”
“Delivery and security of what?”
“Again, I don’t know any details, but I bet you’d get even better pay than me when they find out all of the skills you have.”
“Is there a number for me to call or someone to talk to about applying?”
“No. It’s not like that. Tell you what. I’ll let my contact know you’re…interesting, and if they want you, they’ll set something up. At least, that’s what they did with me.”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Sam!”
“No problem. Take care of yourself, Charlie.”
To my surprise, it was only a couple days before I received a phone call.
“I’m looking for Charlie.”
“This is him.”
“We’d like to interview you for our delivery-and-security position. Can you meet tonight at ten PM?”
As odd as it was to have an interview at that time, I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. I had a sick day coming to me at Spades, so I figured it was worth a shot.
“Sure. Do you want a copy of my résumé? Where should I meet you?”
“Don’t worry about the résumé. Will you be driving a car?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll send you two sets of coordinates. One will be where to park and the other will lead you to where we’ll meet. Be prompt.”
Sure enough, at 9 PM, I received two messages. I grabbed my coat near the kitchen. Not knowing what would come of it, I didn’t mention any of it to Sarah.
“Honey, I’m heading out a little early tonight. I’ll see you in the morning. Love you!”
In between coughs, she responded, “I love you too!”
Arriving before the appointed time, I parked the car in the first location and walked to the second. It turned out to be the vacant building of a restaurant that had long been closed. There was an old sign on the front door.
For deliveries, go around to the back.
Assuming that meant me, I headed to the back and found a fresher-looking note nailed to the rear door.
One of the cars parked in the alley is not like the others. Find the right one to proceed. You have 5 minutes.
Panic instantly set in as I turned around to see if anyone was watching. But it was dark, so I couldn’t tell. I thought about walking away at that moment because of how strange it was, but after a couple years of mindless work on the line, the critical thinker in me came alive pretty quickly. I saw the row of cars down the alley and headed over.
Each one was vintage. They were all massive and black. At a quick glance, they all appeared identical. They were Cadillacs from back in the day. I ran around each car, noticing that even the license plates were the same. Running out of time, I realized that the alley light was sufficient to see everything but the tires, so I pulled out my phone and enabled the flashlight. It was a waste of time looking at the tires for the first three cars as they were all the same. It seemed like that was the case when I got to the fourth, but the driver’s side rear tire was a different brand. Looking closer, I found something sitting on top of the tire. It was another note.
A magnetic box containing the key is over the passenger side front tire. Drive the car to the place where the sun never shines but the people never sleep. You have 20 minutes.
“The sun never shines? But the people never sleep? Think, Charlie. Think!”
I was confused, but wherever the place was, it couldn’t be far since they must have allotted time for me to figure it out and get there in twenty minutes. I hadn’t spent much time in the area, but I always took a mental photo of areas I traveled, something that had stuck with me from my service days. Scanning the local streets in my memory, there was only one place that made sense.
The Nighttime Motel! It had a reputation for two things: drugs and prostitutes. That had to be it.
Too excited to think clearly about the situation, I grabbed the key, jumped into the car, and adjusted all of the settings. The car immediately showed its age with the shifter being on the side of the steering wheel. But it either had been driven very little or had been restored to near factory condition because the engine roared like it was new and the odometer read one hundred miles. I believed it.
The drive to Nighttime was only about ten minutes, but that was enough for the neighborhoods to blur from working class into the bad part of town. I tried to prepare myself mentally if anything should go down, but really had no idea what to expect. Pulling into the parking lot of the motel, I gazed around. Still no one was in sight. Looking at the entire complex, it must have gone out of business given that there wasn’t a single light on, including the front desk’s. Eyeing the doors to the rooms, I could see even in the dark that the numbers had been etched off of all but one.
B13.
I parked the car in the darkest corner, shoved the key into my pocket, and headed for the room. Going up the stairs, I saw two shadowy figures appear at the end of the second-floor balcony ahead, and behind me, another two figures at the foot of the stairs. Bracing myself for a fight, I leaped up the last few steps and put my back against the wall. Two silhouettes remained at attention at the bottom of the stairs and the other two approached my position.
One of the silhouettes spoke with the slightest Hispanic accent. “We’ve been expecting you, Charlie.”
I sighed. “What is this?”
“It’s your interview. Now the boys are going to make sure you’re not armed or wired, and then you’ll come with us.”
With arms up, I allowed the rough frisking. I wasn’t scared, but also wasn’t impressed. Was all of the over-the-top production really necessary? Regardless, I had come this far, and figured I might as well see it through.
We entered B13. The man who had talked outside clicked a button on a lantern atop the table in the middle of the room, which provided just enough light so I could see their faces. They were fairly young, maybe a little older than me, but definitely looked tough.
“Sit down.”
I squatted on the chair next to the table, my patience for the situation quickly waning. “Seriously, guys, a simple what’s-your-biggest-flaw type of interview would have been fine.”
“Shut up,” The other goon said.
Pissed off at being shushed, I figured I would hold my tongue to see what would come next.
From the darkest corner of the room, a deep voice bellowed, “You’ll be asked three questions. Answer each one correctly to receive the next one. Miss one and my associates will see you out.”
The voice really commanded my attention, and in turn, the annoyance that had been building in me since arriving melted instantly into seriousness.
“Yes, sir.”
To my surprise, the lantern doubled as a projector, and it lit up the far side of the room with a line of text.
What’s wrong with the following line? This sentense contains two mistakes.
Not a word question!
While I had basically overcome my dyslexia, the anxiety of thinking that it might kick in usually proved worse than anything. Focusing hard on the question, it became obvious that the misspelling was a mistake, but what was the other one? Was it a riddle or trick? My mind swirled. As crazy as the situation was, it reminded me of my days in the service. My adrenaline instantly kicked in, and I was in problem-solving mode like my life depended on it. My family’s lives did.<
br />
“Your answer? Now,” insisted the deep voice from the corner.
For some reason, the added stress of the situation made me think very clearly for the split second I had before replying, and I was fairly certain I knew the answer. “The word sentence is misspelled. The word two should be one, and drop the ‘s’ from ‘mistakes.’”
Without any acknowledgement, the projector blinked, and an odd image with three people appeared. On the left was a large, muscly man in camo with a shotgun on his shoulder and a dumb smirk on his face. In the middle stood an average-built man with a leather jacket, hands behind his back, and a look of conviction. Finally, an attractive woman in a red dress stood on the right. She had the deepest frown on her face, and her hand was reaching into her clutch.
“Which of these people do you trust the least? Why?”
It had to be one of those character tests where any answer I would give would say something about me. I knew I had to answer honestly, but also that they were looking for something in particular. But what?
“Your answer? Now.”
Out of time, I worked the problem out loud.
“So, the first guy might be big, but he doesn’t take his job seriously. It’s a joke to him. There are at least four different ways to take him out. While I don’t trust him, he’s not the worst offender here. Now, I know better than to ever underestimate an unhappy woman, but she seems more cliché than dangerous. The person I trust the least is the guy in the middle. He looks like he has nothing to lose, and once his mind is made up, he’s capable of anything.”
Again, no indication of right or wrong. Just another blink of the projector, and as fate would have it, it was more text.
“Which of these is the most important aspect of a delivery-and-security job? Why?”
The money.
The product.
The people.
I immediately gravitated toward “people” because it was the most important to me, but that wasn’t what the question was asking. Then I thought that since I would be delivery and security, the product might be the most important. But thinking a little harder about what he was looking for, I was fairly certain I knew the answer.
“Your answer?”
“Money. It’s why we’re all here. Without it, the product and the people don’t matter.”
The projector clicked off, and I waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity.
“Congratulations. The job is yours.” From the shadows, the voice extended his hand, which might as well have been the paw of a grizzly.
That was when I first saw the dog skull ring with ruby eyes. Getting up from the chair, I reached out in an attempt to get the perfect mesh between the webs of our hands, and did my best to match his grip without straining too much. His hand was hot but dry, and it turned out to be the best handshake that I had ever been part of. He stepped forward from the shadows and into the light, and his titanic frame matched his voice in that it commanded the attention of the room. His gaze into my eyes was direct and unflinching, and I offered the same back to him.
“Please join us in prayer to bless your hiring.”
Somewhat bewildered, I simply complied and put my head down.
“Lord, please provide guidance to Charlie as he steps into his new role with us, and allow him to be successful. Should he turn out to be a snitch, cop, fed, or otherwise fail at his job, please grant us the power and permission to smite him on your behalf. We ask this in the Lord’s name. Amen.”
The rest of us said quietly in unison, “Amen.”
“And with that blessing, you are now mine, Charlie. Your first job will be tomorrow night, and it’ll come with ten thousand.”
“Ten thousand?”
“Yes. Taxes are handled up front, and in the end, we’ll deposit ten thousand directly into an account of your choosing. Turn out to be good, and we’ll just keep sending more your way. Do you have a piece or do we need to provide one?”
“Will a nine-millimeter do?”
Putting his hand into his coat, he retrieved the largest handgun I had ever seen outside the military, and its insignia matched his silver ring.
“This is my weapon of choice, but I suppose a nine-millimeter will do. Now, gentlemen, can you please provide Charlie with his new netphone and show him back to the car?”
As we walked down to the parking lot, I was equal parts excited and nervous by the whole situation. Still, there was one thing that I was dying to know. “I didn’t even catch his name.”
Both guys laughed at me, and they should have proceeded to tell me his name. I remembered specifically that they made a joke questioning my credibility, and then they told me his name. But something strange happened instead. Both guys froze in place like statues and stopped talking. Hell, they stopped moving altogether. Not even breathing. Then I noticed that nothing was moving, and there was no sound from the surrounding area. All of time and space was standing still until I glanced across the street and saw movement. I quickly realized it was my friend in the wheelchair from before, Ryan, who was watching me. At that moment, I remembered my boss’s name and knew without a doubt that I needed to tell Ryan.
“His name is the Padre.”
Chapter 20:
Running From the Truth
“His name is the Padre.”
The phrase came from my mouth as I opened my eyes. Like the dream from a couple nights ago, I awoke quite peacefully, but the tranquility faded quickly as I was brought back to reality. Without blankets, my living room was rather frigid. Having never had more than a few drinks at a time, my guess was that I was experiencing my first hangover. My head was pounding something fierce. It felt like a living hell. Sinking behind the cushions, the couch tried its best to eat me whole, but I was able to squirm out and sit up against one of the arms. I rubbed my eyes and shuffled a bit more to settle back into the coach, then the nausea set in. I caught the faintest scent of Helen’s perfume on the couch and was instantly reminded of the night before.
“Shit!”
Popping up from the couch, I located my pants, clumsily put them on, and retrieved my netphone. I frantically tapped to call Helen while I paced around my apartment.
“Come on! Answer!”
A hologram of her appeared, but it was her away message.
“Hi. You’ve reached Helen’s holomail. Leave a message.”
“Dammit!”
I tried calling again, and again I got the damn holomail. Gathering my thoughts, I got a glass of water from the kitchen and headed for the bathroom to get cleaned up. As I was brushing my teeth, I began to think about what happened.
Why the hell would I call her Sarah? The only Sarah I had ever known was in eighth grade, and while she was nice, I never even so much as liked her, let alone loved her. There weren’t even any celebrities named Sarah who interested me in the slightest.
After rinsing my mouth out, it dawned on me. I could feel a force within telling me that I did know a Sarah—a Sarah who I was really close to and, in fact, did love. Considering it some more, I remembered thinking her name a few times since the migration. That could only mean one thing.
Charlie!
I was certain that the words were coming from Charlie. He must have been with a Sarah, and when I was with Helen, it must have triggered something. Still, while the prospect of having Charlie in my mind somewhere should have terrified me, it no longer did. Though, like before, I couldn’t recall specifics, thinking of Charlie and the dreams and visions that accompanied him brought me a sliver of comfort. Still, the issues with my migration were starting to affect others, and I needed to get some perspective to deal with them. I could only think of one person to contact who might be able to help me.
“ADG. How may I direct your call?”
“Tony Smith’s netphone.”
“One moment, please.”
“Hi, Tony. It’s Ryan, Ryan Carter.”
“Ryan! How are you?”
“I’m okay. I was just wondering if you had any time to talk with me about…the issue I’m having with the mind migration.”
“Yes, I think I have some time next week after hours. Can I pencil you in for Thursday?”
There was no way that it could wait until Thursday, and so I thought of the only way I could persuade Tony to meet sooner. “It’s actually a big deal. Something’s happening to me, and I have proof. I know you’re looking for something to bring to the migration board, and maybe my case is just that. Can you meet today?”
“Can we discuss on the phone?”
“I would rather talk in person.”
Tony sighed. “Okay, Ryan. I can get to my office at three PM. Can you meet me there?”
“Yes! Thank you!”
While I was still bummed about Helen, I was excited that Tony found time for me, and the timing couldn’t have been better. I quickly showered, got dressed, and took the bullet to NTE for my two-hour training session. On my way to the elevators, a rich, creamy aroma redirected me to the café. I thought something hot and tasty might take the edge off my splitting headache, and had gotten there early enough. Jumping in line, I could see over the counter for the first time and had full view of the old-fashioned machinery that coffee technicians operated to produce the frothiest, most delicious concoctions ever. People from all over the city came to NTE to get their morning fix since the coffee bots found everywhere else couldn’t come close to the handcrafted quality.
Martin, my favorite barista, was working the credit register, so I knew I would get my favorite drink exactly how I liked it. Like everyone else in my life, I knew he would get a kick out of my mind migration, so I prepared for that whole conversation. With a fool’s grin stretched across my face, I moved to the front of the line and looked him dead in the eye as he greeted me.
“Welcome to Fresho Espresso. What’s your fuel of choice?” To my surprise, his expression didn’t budge as he spewed the corporate spiel without the slightest hint that he had served me hundreds of drinks in the past.
Between Two Minds: Awakening Page 23