《Snapshot》 The Prologue The car came to a halt on the second level of the parking garage. A young man stepped out, slung a laptop bag over his shoulder, and slammed the door shut. His whistles echoed softly off the concrete structure, breaking the noise of the evening rush outside as he walked away from the car. He stopped, spun around, and held his car keys like an armed gunman ready to strike. He aimed and shot the doors to the locked position. The horn sounded off to him, and he dropped his keys back into his pocket before making his way towards the elevator. The thought of coffee seemed to already warm him away from the fall¡¯s cool air. He left the smell of used oil and leaking gas from the parking garage with a pep in his step. That warm cup would taste extra good today. Hell, it tasted extra good everyday, as long as Rebecca made it. He adjusted the bag on his arm, feeling the weight of his new promotion settling in. He could bear this weight for years, finally imagining all of the money to be made. He watched the trees sing and dance for him as the low wind swept through, the colors changing to scarlets and golds for him. He gave friendly nods and smiles at people that passed by him, grinning from ear to ear as he made eye contact with everyone. He wanted to grab hold of the next person that walked by and shake them with his news, but he also wanted to stay out of jail. That was always preferred. Seeing a small line gathered inside the coffee shop, he chose to sit at a small table outside. Life went on around him, and he kept his phone in his pocket for once, opting to enjoy the real world rather than test his score in Candy Crush. He saw a girl across the street talking on her phone. She was looking at him. He followed the edge of her knee length sweater upwards, past her small breasts, and made eye contact. She turned her head away leaving only the phone to face him. She looked pretty enough, slender from the side view, with a gentle flow of black hair. She glanced back over to him again, acknowledging he was still staring, and walked away. ¡°Guess my day couldn¡¯t be that good.¡± He mumbled and glanced back at the coffee shop. He pressed himself up from the plastic chair and made his way inside. The barista behind the counter greeted him with a smile. ¡°I thought you were just going to sit out there without coming to see me¡ª¡± ¡°No way!¡± He replied, edging up to the counter. ¡°Darn right.¡± She smiled again, ¡°The usual Trent?¡± Trent glanced at the menu above, still content with the usual, but never minded seeing what was new. ¡°Not today.¡± He said, ¡°Today is a good day, I think I need something a little better. Any suggestions?¡± The girl cocked her head and grinned. She held up a finger forcing him to wait, and began to make up a drink. He watched her pour coffee into a machine and press a few buttons that he couldn¡¯t read. She was busy dumping things into the cup while Trent was busy staring through her yoga pants. The girl turned back around, and Trent looked back up before she could notice. She held out a foam cup filled almost to the rim. ¡°Rebecca¡¯s special!¡± She said, handing off the beverage. ¡°It¡¯s my all time favorite, like, sooo good!¡± Trent smiled and glanced down at the drink. ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡± ¡°Turtle guts¡ª¡± Rebecca laughed, unable to finish her joke. ¡°Just try it!¡± He blew a wisp of air over top and took a sip, swishing the liquid in his mouth to process the flavors. He almost heaved when he tasted it, and should have known by the burnt orange color. He hated pumpkin, but today it became his favorite flavor. ¡°Tastes like the turtle ate some pumpkin.¡± He smiled, ¡°It¡¯s awesome!¡± Her eyes lit up at with his comment. She clapped her hands together and smiled. ¡°I knew you would like it!¡± Trent handed over his credit card with a chuckle, humored that she knew far less about him than implied, but appreciated the gesture all the same. He glanced down at her name tag before signing the receipt, leaving a generous tip. ¡°Thanks again Rebecca.¡± He said. She winked at him before helping the next customer. ** Trent crossed the street to his apartment building. He entered the code from the landlord, which was easy to remember, being the numbers on the address. He had asked the landlord why the pass-code was so predictable. The man told him he received to many calls in the middle of the night by drunk residents that couldn¡¯t remember four numbers. So he chose to make it easier for them, and in turn, giving him better sleep at night. Trent had few worries of the safety of the building because it was in the better part of town. It was the east end that gave the police job security, and the west end was getting worse, but the north side was fairly docile and quiet. He ascended the single staircase arriving quickly to his door. The second two had been broken off while wrestling a used couch upstairs with his brother a few months prior. They were grateful that his apartment was on the landing of the second floor, and didn¡¯t have to struggle through another turn. He kicked his shoes off at the door, the muscle memory was instilled by his mother¡¯s constant nagging. He never liked how he had to take his shoes off, but guests didn¡¯t. He still didn¡¯t understand why, but figured there had to be a good reason because mom was always right. He dropped the laptop bag off on the couch, which had been centered in the room since the day they brought it up, vowing never to move it again. He turned on the flat screen hanging on the wall and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. The sounds of rock music streamed from the tv, as the station that played his morning pump up music was still going. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. There wasn¡¯t a whole lot to do at home by himself. He wished he could get a roommate, partly to split the bills, but more so to have the company. He wished he could find a girlfriend, as if she would be a treasure somewhere just waiting to be dug up. He had thought about asking Rebecca out on a date, but that was before she stunned him with her new engagement ring a couple weeks back. He was bummed, but couldn¡¯t help being happy for her. It must be a great thing to have a companion, an actual person rather than the ones he chose in video games like Fallout. The landlord had reiterated multiple times about the ¡°no pet policy¡±, and Trent signed the line agreeing to the standard, but he wondered more than once if he could sneak a cat in. He still gave part of his turkey sandwich to a calico that lived inside the weapons factory fence when he was on lunch break. He talked to her everyday. ¡°I would take you home in a heartbeat if I could Cally.¡± He had told her, giving her the name from the warmest place he could think of. Any state had to have better weather than Michigan. Trent scanned through the cable channels before switching over to check his DVR. Keeping track with what shows were on and when was no longer a worry thanks to that little black box, but nothing must have been on the night before because it was empty save for Stepbrothers, which he always left on there claiming it never got old. Can¡¯t hurt to watch it again. He took a sip of the newly favorite ¡®Rebecca¡¯s Special¡¯ and propped his head under a few cushions. He lost his attention to the movie before the opening scene was finished, which he could recite word-for-word anytime he wanted, and started flipping through his phone. Occasionally he would check his phone to see if someone had tried to call or send a message, but rarely had that been the case, and if it was, it was usually someone from work who needed him to fix something. He consumed the majority of his free time in random games and apps, or digging through conspiracy theories from the news. Most of the time he could easily come up with his own. Trent opened his text messaging app, even though there wasn¡¯t anything new, and read the last message he had received. Hey when you get a minute the big wig wants to see you up front. The message from his boss had a whole new meaning now compared to when he first read it. He thought he was in big trouble. But it turned out to be a promotion. Who would have thought? It hadn¡¯t been the usual brown-nosed promotion either, he had earned it, and he knew he wanted it regardless of what the job was. He reached across and grabbed his laptop bag, placing the contents onto the hardwood floor under him. More money equals more options. With more money he pictured himself moving into a new house, an actual house, as big and spacious as possible. He even contemplated letting mom come live with him, he would love the company, but would prefer it to be with a girlfriend or a wife. That would be ideal, but he would take mom if he had to. Something overlooking the water would be nice. Any water really. I would take a pond, the ocean, but maybe not the great lakes¡ª¡ªI think I could do without those ever again. He swept up a few loose papers from the floor and set them on the coffee table. It never seemed that the projects would stop as an engineer. You finish one, and they hand you two new ones. On top of all of those, he still was called all over to fix other machines that were broken-down or not running fast enough. The radio he wore would called out for him more than it did for any other engineers. He knew he was good, but sometimes he wished that there was someone else as good, to help take some of the ever piling load off. There were a few other engineers, though they will probably be good, they were still very new. One of the guys had just started a few months ago, and the other was barely out of orientation. It was a struggle at times by himself with no one else to rely on, but it payed the bills, and after next week it would pay them much easier. The project he was working on now however, was the toughest yet. He grabbed a blueprint out of the bag as he did every night before bed, and set it in front of him. The milky white paper contrasted against the dark wood of the table as he leaned forward. He moved his face within inches of the blueprint until the majority of his visioned was fixated on the paper. He focused, making every word and line crisp in his sight. ¡°That was a little rough.¡± He said as the temperature in his body climbed close to burning after taking the mental picture. He went to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror he saw his skin blush in splotches of red, and lifted his chin up high to check his nose for any signs of blood. He was relieved to find none because it always made it worse. He put the shower on it¡¯s coldest setting, and stood still while the water soothed his burning skin. It only took a few minutes for the heat to subside and allow him to add hot water and finish the rest of his shower like normal. God this sucks, but as of today the shits finally paying off. Only two more prints and I will be rich, as long as they keep their word. He checked the mirror again as he rubbed the towel over his body, not noticing any more red spots on his skin. He would have done all of this at work still if he hadn¡¯t had that seizure. Too much too fast. I would have been done by now. His skin seemed to get hotter every time he did this. It didn¡¯t feel like this when he started, but then again it¡¯s almost winter now, and perhaps the coldness that came with the season just heightened his sense for heat. Just three more days and my job as an engineer will just be an alibi. Chapter 1: Trent Trent spent most of the day moving all of his belongings into his new office. He looked upon his own door, sandwiched between two large panels of glass with sets of blinds for privacy. Why would I need those? It¡¯s not like I have a secretary¡ª¡ªyet. The office was only a few feet larger than the cubicle he previously worked out of, so it only required two trips to gather everything. He filled up his laptop cart with folders, manuals, and his essential Lord of the Rings bobble-heads. They made for excellent paperweights and gave the desk some nerd flare. He connected his laptop to an external monitor in the center of the wooden desktop, and spun himself around in his new leather chair. He organized the blueprints and equipment manuals in all of the drawers except for one. He used the largest drawer at the bottom for his secret candy stash. Trent took the large container filled to the top with his favorite chocolate bars out from the locked section in his laptop cart and nestled it down inside. A few meetings were scheduled later in the day to set up machine projects for the following week, and he smiled in the company of senior managers that wouldn¡¯t have known his face the day before. He was pleased with now having the authority to delegate projects to the new engineers, that would free up some of his own time, as long as they didn¡¯t screw it up. He never minded helping, but he also didn¡¯t want to have to do their job and his. He had more responsibilities now, and those would need to come first before he could help them. Some things they will have to figure out on their own, just like I had to. Trent had his frustrations with how things are currently done, he hated when people got to go sleep in a corner because they weren¡¯t capable of doing their own jobs, and he was ready to take the reigns for a new change. He settled back into his office, utilizing the last hour of the day to inform his subordinates of his new position. He sent out a polite yet stern e-mail, and wasted no time in handing off his prior unfinished projects. He didn¡¯t have time for those anymore as a manager, he needed to focus on the managerial duties he was expected to uphold, but he wasn¡¯t quite sure what all those duties entailed. Telling someone what to do can be hard enough, but telling people over twenty years older than himself would be a much bigger challenge. The previous manager had quit without telling anyone, leaving no one to look to for guidance. Again it was up to him alone to figure out what needed to be done and the best way to accomplish it, and who knows how his men will respond to directives from someone they see as a kid. He would do his best, but wouldn''t worry to much about it. This is just an alibi, he told himself. ** The coffee shop was busy again today, leaving Trent outside to wait out the line while taking in the view, still high from his promotion. He watched the few people that were out on a Thursday night pass him by. He looked back inside the coffee shop and saw a guitar player setting up his equipment atop the small corner stage. Shit, it¡¯s live night. He glanced down at his watch. He knew the place would be jammed packed in less than an hour, and after that he could kiss ¡®Rebecca¡¯s Special¡¯ goodbye. On Live Night the wait could take longer than half an hour just to order, and he was never doing that again. He stood up and intended to look down the street for incoming cafe mongrels, but a slender red head caught his eye. She was sitting on a bench across the street, almost hidden behind the trunk of a parked car. He took a step to the side and looked closer, realizing it was the same girl from the day before. She was even dressed differently today, and he wondered what her true hair color really was. She was staring at him again, not averting her eyes once, and no cell-phone. Trent gave her a slight wave. She must be single, maybe she is waiting for Live Night¡ª. He checked traffic both ways, but was almost leveled by a car whipping out from an alleyway see. He paused and took a deep breath before continuing on. The woman''s eyes began to widen as he sped his walk towards her. He didn¡¯t want to run across and give her the impression of a mad man, but he didn¡¯t want to take his sweet time and have an impatient driver make him one with the asphalt either. She reached for her handbag as Trent came closer, and stood up before he had made near the parked cars. He turned sideways to fit between the cars, trying to make his way to the sidewalk, but before he could get through she began to walk away. He stepped out and followed her, but his high seemed to fade away as she quickened her pace. He tried to catch up to her, but could tell she wasn¡¯t interested by the glare she shot back at him. Damn, I didn¡¯t think I was that bad looking, but she don¡¯t want anything to do with me. God, she probably thinks I am a murderer or something. She knocked on the tinted window of a black car before ripping the door open and climbing into the passenger seat. He stopped behind the car when she slammed the door shut, noticing the license plate of the vehicle was government issued. What the fuck? He resumed walking, looking through the windshield as he passed, hoping that even government vehicles were not allowed to tint the front glass. The woman was staring back at him, disgusted with his presence. The driver was holding their hands longways over their face, shielding Trent¡¯s view. The brake lights reflected off the car behind them, and they pulled past him. Even through the tinted glass of the passenger¡¯s side window Trent could feel her heavy eyes upon him. The car sped down the street and around the corner opposite of his apartment building. The craving for ¡®Rebecca¡¯s Special¡¯ was gone, as the only feeling left in his gut was churning with nausea. He stayed on the sidewalk, stretching his neck around the corner to see if they were still there, and hurried across to his apartment hoping they were gone. He punched in the access code and forced the door back closed once he was inside before lunging up to his room. He locked the deadbolt, the handle, and the chain before sliding his shoes off. He grabbed the ice scraper that was behind the door and held it like a baton as he watched through his peep hole. No one was there. He stood there for over five minutes with one cheek pressed against the wood before setting the ice scraper down, and giving himself permission to walk away. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. With scraper in hand he crept into every room, checking every corner, nook, and cranny, making sure he was alone. He checked the pantry in the kitchen and all three closets before moving to the bathroom. He flipped the light, stood there a moment, and raised his weapon above his head as he pulled the shower curtain away from the wall. He could feel someone standing inside, but no one was there. He cut the lights back off, closed the door, and went back to the living room. He peered through the long rectangular windows towards the corner of the coffee shop. The line had grown longer and the chatter of the people waiting consumed the street, all waiting for their favorite cup and free music. Trent looked towards the park cars and skipped over anything that wasn¡¯t black. If it was black, he examined it for darkened windows before moving on to the next. He saw only three vehicles encased in ebony paint, one being an SUV, and the others had no tint. Where are you guys hiding? He powered on his computer before dropping the blinds on two windows on the edges of his computer desk. The other¡¯s were already closed to keep the glare off the television. The room had no overhead lighting, though he had intended on getting that fixed, he had to rely on a tall corner lamp that his mother had given him as a gift. He sat down at the computer desk after taking one last peak through the door, and pulled out his phone. He sent a text message to his brother, urging him to call when he was available. He sat the phone down on the desk, and turned to the computer for his e-mail. While it loaded he went to check the peep hole once more. He was relieved that no one was there, but disappointed in himself for succumbing to paranoia. Come on Trent, fucking hold it together! They aren¡¯t doctors. He rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes as he sat back down, as he did whenever he felt nervous or anxious. He picked the phone back up to see that there was no message back from his brother. Jake, I know you¡¯re just playing video games, just send something. I hope he isn¡¯t doing a raid, that shit takes almost a whole day. With no luck in getting a hold of Jake, he decided to make the dreaded phone call to the ¡®money man¡¯. ¡°What do you want?¡± His thick accent spilled through the receiver. He never sounded pleasant, and Trent didn¡¯t want to imagine how he would take the news. ¡°I think I am being watched.¡± He said, voice trembling. ¡°We should probably hold off on the meeting. ¡°I don¡¯t think so boy.¡± The money man told him. ¡°A deadline is a deadline. You give us what we want, and on time. Or we will get our payment in other ways. I¡¯m tellin¡¯ you that right now.¡± Trent didn¡¯t understand what that meant, but it didn¡¯t sound appetizing. He tried to explain what happened, and though the money man seemed curious, he showed no signs of wanting to wait for the swap. Against Trent¡¯s better judgment, he agreed to going through on time. Just the thought of it made his stomach turn again. ** Trent spent most of the evening on the couch with his phone in hand and the ice scraper at his side. Making several attempts to call his brother resulted in leaving several unsavory voice mails. He didn¡¯t want to say too much over the phone, worrying that it may be tapped or monitored. He figured the best bet was to send him an e-mail desperately needing to talk to him, but only adding the fine details. He made regular rounds throughout the apartment, starting with a glance through the peep hole, and finishing back on the couch. He would check the locks on the door, tugging the handle to verify the mechanisms, and would split his fingers through the blinds just enough to see the street below. As the night drew on he only saw one couple go up the staircase, though the footsteps gave him an instant chill, and it became too dark to differentiate the colors of cars. He was alone and scared, clenching the handle of the scraper for any possible comfort. Even later, lying in bed, it felt identical to the first night he slept there after moving in. Every sound brought forth curiosity and unease, while the bedding lacked the warmth of his parents home. He lay there with both eyes open facing the bedroom door, wishing it had some lock as well. The feelings of being alone stuck with him through the night, though he wished he had someone he knew there with him. Perhaps mother, or Jake, maybe even Rebecca if she somehow found herself single, but not likely. Maybe she wasn¡¯t even watching me. Who¡¯s to say it wasn¡¯t coincidence? Kinda like the right-time right-place deal, he thought to himself. Nah, I don¡¯t buy it. Two days in a row? And why did the guy cover his face? Holy shit I am over thinking this. He tossed to his side and plugged in his phone to the charging cable before tossing it on the nightstand. It was a government car¡ª¡ª that¡¯s as shady as it gets. He thought back to when she walked away from him, trying to piece the riddle together. She couldn¡¯t have been waiting for a ride. The car was off, and he didn¡¯t start it until she was inside, which means he was parked the whole time. He stretched the blanket over his shoulders and tucked it under his chin the way his mother had done since he was a boy. The thoughts and possibilities swept through his mind, leaving assumptions instead of reasoning. Why would two government officials be downtown unless they were looking for someone? His conscious mind fought the urge for sleep, but his body remained still as stone. The bedroom felt safe and secluded, but not enough to drift away into dreams or nightmares. He attempted to sleep with one eye open, but the air would suck the moisture out of it like a vacuum, leaving an unpleasant discomfort. He wondered what tomorrow would bring, and if he could hold himself together at work. Sleep was what he needed right now, but there was no telling what could blow open that door. They could have his house wired right now, just waiting for him to shut his eyes.