Dennis Cleary picked up the metal tin he'd carefully packed with Devil's Breath earlier that morning, and placed it in his pocket. He'd paid a small fortune for the Columbian white powder, and he had a list of uses for it. The scopolamine was derived from the borrachero tree, from the angel's trumpet flowers. Dennis had had a friend sneak it into the States in his luggage.
Dennis drove into Paradise, California, and followed the signs until he hit the gas station. He signalled, and turned into the parking lot. Dennis couldn't wait to try out his new stash, and he sat idling in his vehicle, scanning the patrons entering and leaving the tiny building for a solid ten minutes. Finally, he chose his first victim. The gas station attendant was short and pudgy, with thick black hair in his eyes. He walked with his hands nervously clasped in front of him, shoulders slumped as he approached the car. Dennis rolled down the window a few inches.
"Fill 'er up," Dennis instructed the man coldly. He watched the attendant work, noticing the nametag affixed crookedly to his work shirt. Gary, as the nametag read, would be the perfect subject to test how well his stash worked. The man looked unable to hurt anyone, or stand up for himself in any way. It would be interesting to see how he'd act while under the hypnotic effects of the drug.
Dennis got out of his vehicle, and went into the station to get his caffeine fix. He snapped up a half dozen energy drinks, and a bag of pork rinds, and dropped them onto the counter. He watched through the streaky window as the attendant used the squeegee to clean off the filthy windshield. He opened the tin, and took a pinch of Devil's Breath between his thumb and forefinger. He shoved the container back into his jacket pocket. Gary walked in, and started to ring up Dennis' order.
"Will that be on cash or credit, sir?" Gary asked. "Did you find everything you were looking for?"
"One more thing," Dennis said, raising his hand to his mouth. He blew the dust into Gary's face, and watched as the man inhaled in surprise.
"What was that?" Gary asked, confused.
"Open the till, and give me all the money," Dennis said, calmly. He popped open the energy drink, and took a swig. He watched the man take handfuls of bills and line the bottom of the bag, along with the drinks and pork rinds.
"Have a great day, now," Gary said, closing the till.
"Yeah," Dennis said. He contemplated leaving the gas station, but he wanted to use his subject another time. "Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like you to come with me for a few hours," Dennis said. Gary followed him out of the building, and they got into Dennis' car. A full tank of gas, enough drinks to last him a few days, and six hundred dollars richer. So far, the drug had all sorts of perks. He peeled out of the parking lot, and headed for the downtown strip.
"You and me, we're gonna have a helluva time," Dennis said. "Good thing you won't remember any of this when the drug wears off, you won't even be able to ID me or anything. You make the greatest partner in crime – perfectly willing to do anything I ask without question, and perfectly ditchable. I won't even have to kill you, or blackmail you for your silence. The Devil's Breath will take care of that all on its own."
Gary stared out the window, completely compliant, as Dennis drove up to the grocery store.
"I need food," He told the man, as they parked, and got out of the vehicle. "But you'll be footing the bill. Alright?"
"Sure thing," Gary told him, as Dennis started to fill up the shopping cart. He needed road-worthy food, like jars of peanut butter, and crackers. Apples, granola bars, bottles of water. Enough to fill up the trunk of his car.
When they got to the till, Gary pulled out his debit card, and paid for the bill.
"You don't work today?" The cashier asked, smacking her chewing gum loudly.
"Day off," Gary told her.
"Must be nice."
As they were about to leave the grocery store, Dennis spotted the ATM. He led Gary to the machine.
"Take out all your savings. I'll be needing it."
Once he had the money in hand, Dennis walked out the door, leaving Gary standing there. He didn't feel too bad ripping the man off, or leaving him stranded a few miles from work. Dennis had places to go, and he wasn't planning on bringing Gary with him. He didn't need him anymore, not after he got the free gas, food, and money. Gary was deadweight. Next stop - Beacon Hills, California.
Dennis pulled up at the motel, and went into the main office. He was on the main drag of Beacon Hills, across from the movie theatre, and two convenience stores. Dennis rented a room for the week, using Gary's stolen money to pay in cash.
He set his backpack on the bed, and looked around the hotel room. Taking in the flat screen TV mounted on the wall, mini fridge, and the ugly flowered comforter on the queen sized bed. It was a nice enough room, if a bit stuck in the past. Dennis grabbed the remote control, and turned on the local news. He wanted to size up the town, and the local news was perfect for research.
Dennis picked up the phone book, and flipped through it as the commercials played. He was starving – and not for the road trip food he'd bought last night in Paradise. It was six in the morning. The motel didn't have a restaurant attached, and he doubted that many places were open so early. He found an advertisement in the phone book for a pizza joint open 24/7, and called them up. Dennis ordered a large pizza with Italian sausage, and a box of chicken wings. He figured he'd splurge on a feast for breakfast, and save the remainder of the food for later that day.
He waited for the food, while he watched the rest of the news segments. Mostly boring, small-town stuff. Local politics, the weather, local lacrosse teams, nothing really astounding.
". . . And last night in Beacon Hills, police had two separate sightings of an animal downtown. Witnesses say it appeared to be a wolf-like creature walking on all fours. More on this story when we return."
Dennis' attention was piqued. A wolf, in California? Maybe something interesting would happen in this crummy town, after all. His thoughts were interrupted by the loud knocking on the door. He stood up, and yanked it open. The delivery man pulled out the pizza and wings, and handed it to Dennis.
"That'll be $32.58."
Dennis handed him a fifty dollar bill, and slammed the door. "Keep the change."
"Thanks!" The man called out, before walking back to his vehicle.
He opened the box, inhaling the succulent aroma of mouth watering, Dennis picked up a slice and took a bite. Pure heavenly. When he was done gorging on pizza, Dennis shoved the remainder into the mini fridge. He felt exhausted. Partially from being on the road for twelve hours the previous day, to the incoming food coma he was currently experiencing. Dennis pulled back the ugly, flowered comforter, and curled up on the bed. He was asleep within minutes.