A Night to Remember
-or-
A Night in Jail is All I Need
"Come on Billy." Max had been pestering the little kid for almost two hours, but he wouldn't budge on the issue. "You don't even have to stay."
"I can't. Nora and I are about to bury a bunch of eggs and see if they hatch!"
For the past two hours, it had been Nora-and-I-are-going-to-do-this or Nora-and-I-are-going-to-do-that. It was staring to get really obnoxious. It was time to pull out the big guns.
"Fine. I guess I'll have just have to tell Mr. Colso that you don't want to play cards with him anymore." He knew it was something that Billy had been dying to do and had kept saying no in case something like this happened.
Billy stopped and turned around, walking over to Max who stood by the fridge. His eyes lit up and he began to jump around excitedly. "You mean I can?!"
Max looked around before clamping a hand down on Billy's mouth. There was no need to make the entire family aware of their little….agreement.
"As long as you shut up about it. And you can't ask any questions." He slowly took his hand off.
"Right! Sorry Max! When do you want to go?"
"Right now if you don't mind."
Billy grasped his older brother's shirt eagerly and dragged him. Max blinked and already they had stopped in France. They were in an alleyway where no one could see them. He could see the Eiffel Tower standing over them in the distance.
"This is good right? Okay! Bye!" Billy zoomed off into the distance before Max could even answer.
First thing on the list was to head to a bank and get some money. He walked out of the alleyway and walked in the direction he was sure a bank would be. In case of emergencies, he had been saving up money in every country. He withdrew some money and folded it up in his pocket.
Now, to go find that chemical. It was illegal in the United States, so that's why he had to come all the way to France to get it. The chemical, known as C-230, was extremely hard to obtain. Unless you knew the right people.
France was nice if you could get used to all the people walking about. They seemed to walk in groups of two or more, which only Max realize how truly alone he was. And in a different country too. He walked around for an hour, weaving back and forth between people on his way to different stores. Once he was sure no one was following him, he made his way to the street where his contact had agreed to meet him.
Standing under a tree was a tall Caucasian man. He was leaning against the tree nonchalantly with his jacket pulled up around his face. His hat was pulled low around his face in an attempt to see all, but not be seen.
Max approached the man slowly. The man got up and began to walk towards him. Instead of going around him though, they bumped into each which ended up with Max on the ground.
"Hey! Watch it!"
"Pardon Mousier." The man didn't bother to help him up as he walked around him and continued on.
Max grumbled something under his breath as he got up. Once he was sure he was far enough away, he brushed his hand against his jacket pocket. Inside, where the money had been, was a vial. He beamed for a minute before getting control of his smile.
When he turned the corner, he regretted that simple decision immediately. Gathered around were policemen. They were standing over a body. From where Max stood, he could see a knife sticking out of the guys chest and blood all around him. Slowly and carefully, he began to back up before he was spotted.
Once of the policemen spotted him and began talking to him in rapid French that Max didn't understand.
"Are you an American?" The guy asked with a thick French accent.
Max nodded. "Uh…yeah. I'm here on vacation."
"Did you see what happened here?"
Before the guy had even finished the question, Max turned and ran. He wasn't sure why. He was great with talking people out of decisions or confusing them. He hadn't even killed the guy, so why did he run? It probably the fact that he was all alone.
"Hey! Stop!"
He could hear the policemen's footsteps as he slapped his feet against the pavement. The guy wasn't too far behind for an older guy. Max turned a corner and realized his mistake too late. It was a dead end. Before he could make sense of what was going on, he felt his arms being pulled together behind him and handcuffs being placed on his wrists.
"Wait! You don't understand!" His voice was desperate. "I didn't kill the guy."
"And, why are we to believe you?"
Max frowned at that. They had absolutely no reason to believe him. They pulled him over to a cop car and shoved him into the back. It was the longest and worst car ride of Max's life. Once they got to the station, they asked him questions like what his name was, where he was staying. Questions that he answered with ease. The more they asked him questions, the more they got angry. He didn't slip up or give them any hint to suspect him of anything.
When the interrogation was over, they threw him into an empty cell and locked him in. The room was unnaturally cold. Every metal surface was even colder. It was going to be a long night. He paced back and forth, rubbing his hands over his arms in an attempt to keep warm. He got absolutely no sleep that night.
In the morning, the policeman came to open the door and found Max huddled on the ground, shivering. He quickly opened the door and pulled Max to his feet. Max could hear him shouting, but he couldn't make out the words.
Soon, a blanket was wrapped around him and he was taken back to the interrogation room. Sitting on the table was a bowl of steaming hot soup. Max sat down and ate it like he hadn't eaten in years. Just holding the bowl in between his hands made him feel better. When he was halfway through eating, a policeman came in.
"We are sorry for the confusion. Next time," The older guy smiled at him. "Don't run."
"I know," Max told him. "I got scared and I didn't know what to do. Am I free to go?"
The older guy nodded. His radio crackled to life and his smile disappeared. "I'm sorry. I have to go. We caught the man who killed and that's why you are free to go."
He answered Max's question before he even had a chance to ask. They walked out of the room together. The policeman escorted him to the exit before turning and heading to his desk.
Early morning France was even better than afternoon France. There were less people. Max inhaled deeply as he walked down the steps. Right in front of him, the sun was beginning its ascent. He smiled before pulling out his cell phone and calling Billy.
"I'm ready to come home."