I don't own anything. And this is starting to be repetitive. Please comment. Otherwise I don't know how I'm doing.
Lying back in bed I watch the ceiling as shadows dance across it. Its night and I've been hiding in this warehouse for 2 days. Screw trying to find a job, everyone's too worried about terrorists or losing theirs or just plan rebuilding what they've got. There's no place for scoundrels like me. Dad was right about one thing, without a background you won't amount to much.
Turning to my side I readjust my head on my bag. It's ok weather wise. It only gets cold right before dawn; and if I can get up and move then I'll stay warm.
I should have asked Michael if I could stay at his place.
Rolling over again to my back I sigh. I couldn't ask him. It would be too weird; I only met him a week ago.
Listening to the cars in the background I close my eyes and try to sleep.
"You said it went this way." A man's voice called out sounding rather annoyed.
"No, I said it most likely went this way, it would be helpful if we had…." Another man's voice came to reply and I opened my eyes wide.
I could hear their foot steps coming closer and the sound of boards being knocked over.
"I still don't think it went in here."
Rolling over onto my stomach I look around nervously, this is not good, this is not good.
"Try scanning the room for life signs." Clang a crate hit the floor.
"I'm getting three life signs"
Grabbing my bag, I slowly get to my feet and crawl to the nearest box. Peering around it I saw two men, one in a suit, the other looked familiar. He wore a trench coat and was carrying a gun.
Looking for possible exit signs I groan, there is only one and it's on the other side of the two men. Trying to think up a plan I crept along the boxes to the far left side. Spotting an open crate I climbed inside and pulled the lid over me.
"Well where is it?"
"You know I was never good at reading these things."
Hugging my bag to my chest I tried not to breath. For their voices were coming closer.
"Look, I think it may have been nesting here."
"No it looks more like a hobo's bed, if it was nesting there would be bones."
Shit. They found my blanket; I knew I should have grabbed it.
"Come on lets go. When we get back to the hub we can call Gwen to come in."
After awhile I didn't hear anything more so I decided to leave. Shouldering my bag I look around for anything useful then leave.
I thought gangsters were only in movies. Walking gloomily down the highway I ignore the blaring of the occasional horns. Life blows. I can't live a normal life, and being a bum isn't working.
"Hey I know you!" Looking to my left there was a convertible driving right along side me. Inside it was the man that had helped me out with that biker guy a few days before.
"Hi…" Looking straight ahead I blinked then tilted my head and looked at the guy. "Can I help you?" I asked rather suspicious.
Resting his right arm on the back of the seat he smiled. "Jump in, I'm bored, I need a distraction." Slowing the car to a stop he motions his head for me to come over.
Stopping I turn my entire body towards the car. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
"Drink, play a bit of cards, and if we're lucky kill somebody."
Staring at the strange man before me I think about whether or not Michael would find this man attractive. After coming to a decision that this man is willingly buying me a drink I toss my bag in the back seat and open the door. "I don't play cards."
As I sat down the car took of with a jolt, causing the door to shut on its own.
"Well then you can provide some other sort of entertainment." Returning his right hand to his lap he gives me a smile then moves to pass someone.
Leaning forward I turn on the radio; luckily it was playing Rob Zombie's Dragula.
"The name's Janet."
"Damn it Janet, name's Captain John Hart."
Giving him a glare I roll my eyes, "right, what are you the captain of?"
Looking over at me Captain John gives me a thoughtful look. "You know I don't really remember. It was a long time ago."
"Obviously." Pulling out a cigarette I try lighting it with the car's lighter but tossed it out the window. Using mine out of my pocket I inhale deeply and take the cigarette out resting my hand on the window ledge.
"Smoking kills, hand one over." Holding out a hand John adjusts in his seat as we're honked at by another vehicle we've passed.
…………………………..
We had gone to some restaurant on the edge of town, John insisted that we go to a bar but I didn't want to run into Michael so I chose sports one. Currently we were sitting in a both having a drink before the food came; I ordered a burger, and I think John got mushrooms.
"So the key is to insert the blade, slide, and then lift. You get more skin that way." Using a cigarette and a napkin as an example I explained to John how to properly skin an animal.
"Does this work on humans also?" John asked taking another shot and setting it down on the table.
"Sort of, human skin is a little more delicate, you have to cut it at an angle on all four sides then lift and cut, lift and cut. It's rather ridiculous; I don't see what serial killers get out of it, unless your buffalo bill." Picking up my drink I take sip.
"And you would know this how?" John asked leaning forward.
"I worked as a butcher with my father as a teenager then in a morgue in college." Taking another sip I then set down the glass and stuck the cigarette back in my mouth.
"Women," Shaking his head as he took another shot John kept one eye on me all the while. "I have a proposition for you. I understand it that you're currently a bum?"
"Unemployed, but yeah." Blowing smoke out my nostrils I take the cigarette out and set it in the ash tray. "What's this proposition?" I ask crossing my arms over each other and resting them on the table.
"How would you like working for me? Doing odd jobs, I may need your…knowledge and expertise for what I'm planning on."
"You need me to skin? Let me tell you, fur trading is out of style."
"Fur isn't what I want to trade."
Leaning back I scowl. "I am not killing anyone."
"You need money right? Then you'll do what I say." Smirking all smug to himself John picks up another shot glass and gives me a 'cheers' before drinking it.
"I don't need your money." I snapped picking up my cigarette and taking a deep breath.
The waitress came up to us and set down a plate in front of each us, smiling rather cheerfully. "Here's your Burger and fries ma'am and here's your mushroom's enjoy, um will this be on one check or two?"
"One." I said holding up my index finger and giving a fake smile back at her.
"Alright let me know if you need anything." Once out of sight I leaned forward rolling my eyes in the back of my head then staring straight at him, "Ok, fine. But if we go to prison, you're the bitch."
Laughing John nods picking up his fork and then stabbing a mushroom.