"Thank you very much for the fresh
linens, Rosita." The man with the red-blotched birth mark on his forehead
began to enter the motel’s dank room again.
The maid
politely answered back, “Ju are very welcomed Senor, Johnny. I will come back
later to pick up jur things, okay?” He loved her thick accent, and
thought she was very friendly. The door shut with a nod. The maid reminded him of the people who use to be his caregivers at
the Institution before he was given the Cure. He did not like or dislike the
Institution it was his home and all he ever knew. But since he was cured of his
Mental Retardation his intellectual clarity was like wearing glasses for the
first time. Everything was exciting and he wanted to explore his new
surroundings. But he was told his by new employer to stay put and out of sight
until he called. Already three days had gone by without a word. He did
not like being a messenger but was not
skilled in anything else and so was grateful for what he had.
Johnny
Wilkerson tossed the sheets on the bed to be made later in favor of finishing
his half eaten sandwich. ‘Baloney, again,’ he mused to himself. Sitting
on the bed he leaned against the wall’s headboard, and called out to the inset
view screen, “Resume Program – volume up.”
The frozen
imagine of an electric car’s sleek body hugging the road about a tight curve
suddenly came roaringly back to life only to have the commercial fade to black. An animated GBN Logo illuminated the darken
room of the motel. A beautiful young Asian woman sat professionally dressed behind a glass tabletop as graphics began to illustrate her recap.
“Welcome
back, I am Rhodora Inianna and this – is The Global Broadband Network. We are
continuing to follow up on the unfolding story of the Dallas tragedy. To
re-cap The Mardon Hotel explosion has claimed the lives of 721 people, with 56
critically injured and 3 continue to be missing.
“Local,
State and Federal officials in America are pulling out all their resources as
The UN Authority is refraining from lending assistance. A UN
Technician: OK22 41 was found nearby, but because he suffered no serious
injuries the UN will not be involved as it was in the San Angelo Incident where
Technician VC3418 was fatally wounded. Thus far the two are being called
unrelated by top UN sources.
“American
leaders have always been reluctant to submit to the Global Authority, since its
ratification back in 2017. One leading FBI official stated -”
A large black box
with a rotating green arrow took over the subdued and silently frozen newscast.
The chirping ring toned again. Johnny called out, “PHONE – ‘Hello’?”
The black
box was instantly replaced with the image of a bald, cigar chewing man in a
pinstriped suit. He was seated in a luxurious room aboard a Blimp as noted by
the cloud view of the windowed wall. Standing behind the seated man was a
bulked figure; an eternal frown etched on his faced looked even more daunting than his boss. Beaming a clinched cigar-smile the bald man said, “Well, hello to you Johnny. I hope the accommodations
aren’t too terribly bad.”
“Well, si
sir,” Johnny stammered a poor beginning. Frantically brushing away
bread crumbs from off his chest and trying to sit up straight on the
sunken bed, “I was wondering how you were, I mean when you were going to call –
sir. It’s just that I – well – was wanting out of my contract. I mean,
well, seeing as though I – suppose I already fulfilled my end of the bargain
that is. I mean – uhm, Steven you never mentioned what the package was that I
delivered to the Mardon Hotel.”
“Oh Johnny
not to worry, you are out of the contract and as a matter of fact there was no
package at all to be concerned with. You did a great thing today and
served your sole purpose in life, Johnny. You know, not too many people
can actually say that. Bruce should be meeting you with payment soon. I
just wanted to get back with you. Nice seeing that expression.”
The
screen’s imagining, and volume retuned to the Filipino Newscaster where the pause was lifted. “BRUCE!
That’s never a good sign.” Johnny sprang from the unmade bed. Leaving
whatever sparse belongings he had, grabbed his coat and headed for the
door.
A rapping knock
stopped him in his tracks as Rosita called out, “Senor, Johnny.” Sighing
a relief, the thin man opened the door, “I have to go out for awhi-” His
words were cut short. The sight of a huge man wearing a derby and pinstripe
suit met him like a brick wall. Rosita was pressed up against to him,
bound by a monstrous arm. Before Johnny could offer up anything other
than an astonished, “Bruce!” a thudding headache snuffed everything to
black. After Johnny’s form slumped back into the seedy motel room the
maid’s screams were silenced by a gunshot to the head as she fell atop the mess
before her.
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