I didn't know what to do. I was scared. I was having trouble controlling my own thoughts, my mind was leaping from one random thought to another and I couldn't think straight. So I called a close friend Pete to meet me at the Blue Square downtown, it was a small bar where we could talk and I needed someone to talk to right then. When I got there he was already waiting for me with a drink in his hand.
"I'm sorry I'm late Pete but I'm barely holding it together right now."
"What's wrong, what's going on?"
I ordered a double shot of whiskey before I started with Pete. "I was with Gibson a few nights ago and something happened. I'm not even quite sure what happened to Gibson so I made up some story for the cops because I knew they wouldn't believe me."
"Why were you talking to the cops, did Gibson get pinched?" I took a moment to look around the bar to see if anyone was listening in, then I rubbed my eyes. "Come on, what happened with Gibson?"
The bartender brought me my double shot, "open tab buddy. Well..." I gulped the double before I continued and let out a deep breath of warm air, "see, I was at the bar, you know the one over on the east side, umm, the drunken squirrel, yeah, just drinking some beers when Gibson came in. He didn't realize I was going to be in there and looked surprised to see me. I said hey and all that and we started talking. He started telling me about some job he was thinking about doing up north and was looking for someone to be his lookout. Anyway, I asked him about the details and he told me he had scouted out some agoraphobic old man that was rich but never left his house. It didn't matter though because he could go in with a mask, tie the guy up and get into his safe and other things he had, apparently the guy was loaded. He already knew the combination to the safe as he had been scouting out the guy for weeks. It was a quick in and out job and he needed a lookout, that's where I came in. I needed the money and he would give me a 20 percent cut just to be the watch guy. So I said yeah."
I reached for my wallet, making sure I had enough cash to pay for more drinks.
"Anyway, we get to talking more about the details and I tell him I'm curious to see the place and he invites me to go see it. Oh, bartender, another double and a pint of Blue Moon, thanks. So we go over to the old man's place right and his house looked chock full of prime loot as Gibson so put it. I mean he had fancy fur rugs, jewelry that would go for a good price and from what Gibson showed me a safe that seemed pretty well hidden. He didn't know what was in there but if this guy's house was any indication, he had something valuable in there. Then we watched the old man wander in and out of his rooms for a few minutes. We were on an overlook that peeked over this guy's barred fence, you know, the ones that have high black prison like bars so you could see through to the other side. We were using Gibson's binoculars to watch this guy and I mean this old man was frail, I didn't like the idea of tying him up but Gibson wouldn't change his mind about it even if I had said something. It was weird though Pete, I watched as this old guy talked to some jars, four of them that had some yellow liquid and some weird meat looking things floating in them. He would talk to them as if they were his own children. Pointing at them and even looked like he was scolding them, you know, like a parent would."
"Hmph, that's some really weird shit Frank and then what?"
" Yeah it was Pete. Anyway, so we go back to Gibson's place and got high and decided the next night we would do the job."
The bartender set down my double and a cold pint of Blue Moon with an orange wedge. I grabbed it and squeezed it into my beer and dropped it in. "Thanks buddy, anyway, I go home and get some things ready and we go out around midnight to this old man's house right. We find where the old man is in the house and Gibson gets out of the car and I wait for him parked on the side of the fence under some tree. I could see him with my binoculars and watched him as he climbed through one of the windows. He made his way through the house but then I couldn't find the old man. I could see Gibson rummaging through some stuff and making his way to the room with the safe but the old guy was nowhere to be seen. The curtains were closed in that room too with the safe so I couldn't see Gibson once he got in there. A few minutes go by and I don't see Gibson, I'm figuring he's having more trouble with the safe than he expected and then I hear a fucking loud scream, like someone was being murdered Pete. I freaked for a moment and the first thing that went into my mind was that Gibson had killed the old man. Murder is not something I want to be involved with, you know, that's not our business. So I figured something went fucking wrong. That's what I thought. I'm not even sure what to think now, Pete. It should have been an easy job but some shit went wrong and I'm not even sure what. So now I'm worried Pete because I've never done anything like that, you know, murder, well, be an accomplice to murder. I got angry with Gibson while sitting in the car and started punching the steering wheel cursing up a storm Pete, I was fucking angry. I cursed taking the fucking job. Then I look to the house again looking for Gibson but see the old man instead standing at the window looking right at me in my car. Oh shit I say."
"Oh shit is right, so you got made."
I took the double shot of whiskey and slammed it back then let out a breath as the alcohol warmed my insides. My hands kept shaking as I tried to coherently form my thoughts but nervous fear kept taking over. I took a sip of beer trying to calm myself and then continued.
"I wasn't entirely sure Pete because there was no way he could see that far without binoculars and in the dark. I was in the shadow of a tree, there was no way he could see me. I mean, he would have to have night vision or something. But when I look back at the house again in the binoculars I see his yellow eyes staring back at me. Then I freak."
"Oh fuck, what was he doing?"
"I dunno Pete, but it was creeping me out."
"So what happened to Gibson?"
"Right, well, I keep looking around for him but can't find the fucking guy. Then I start trying to figure out who made that loud ass scream because it couldn't have been the old man cuz he was standing at the damn window. I figured there must have been someone else in the house we didn't expect. I keep looking around and while I'm searching that old fucking man stays at the window and now he's smiling. I could see his old rotting teeth and his wrinkly lips. His hair was all unkempt and going every which way and he had a wicked hooked nose. Then I noticed something I didn't notice before, on the ledge in front of him was a jar with some kind of meat thing floating in it. He bent down to talk to it and I could see him mouth a question to the jar asking, 'what's his name?' and I keep staring and the old man lifts his head back up and points at me and mouths the name, 'Frank.' Now I'm really fucking scared Pete. How the hell does this old man figure out my name."
"You're giving me chills here Frank, that's some crazy ass shit."
"Yeah, I know, its get even weirder. So, I wanted to get the fuck out of there but I couldn't just leave Gibson, you know. What if he needed my help or had left out another way and was about to meet me. So I stayed a few more minutes then the old man leaves the window and grabs something from his drawer. I couldn't quite make out what it was until he placed it on the window ledge. It was an empty jar. I looked at him and he pointed at me and mouthed the words, 'For You.' That's when I got the fuck out of there, I mean I'm totally fuckin' creeped out by now and Gibson will have to find his own ride since things had gone bad anyway. We were supposed to meet back at his place if we got separated but he never showed."
"So how do the cops get involved?"
"Well, about two days pass and his girlfriend says she gets a call from him telling her that he was in trouble and needed to find me. And the dumb bitch calls the police, can you believe that. Anyway, she doesn't tell them that he asked for me specifically but since they need to talk to people associated with Gibson they find me at my place. I shorten up my story about seeing him at the drunken squirrel and that's it. Nothing about the old man or the job. But then something happens that gets me thinking that maybe Gibson never made that call or maybe someone made him do it."
"What happened Frank?"
"I leave my place for a few hours and when I come back, sitting on my table was a jar with a note attached to it that read, "for you."
No comments:
Post a Comment