The Business by confusedalarms . (read the beginning after the end novel .txt) 📖

must also provide a service for me. It not until after you have done so that you can watch the blood flow from Tina's neck.'
'Ok....what do I have to do?' ' I want you to kill a person. Anyone will do, you just have to kill them, and bring the body here within one week. I will be waiting.' He handed Mike a .45 handgun.

'Good luck,' Edward said. VIII: Consideration

Could he do it? That was was he had been thinking about ever since the meeting, and that was 5 hours ago. He was lying in a motel bed and trying to sleep, but thoughts of the meeting and the task that lay ahead of him had kept him awake the whole time. Am I really considering it?

he thought, as he stared at the spot on the ceiling above his head where the paint had worn off. Am I really?

He supposed he was. The meeting had been like gasoline poured onto the fire in his mind, until it was so big it seemed to cause him physical pain rather than just rage. He looked at the gun on the nightstand next to him. He had already checked: it was loaded. Ten shells. He had held it in shooting position before he went to bed, aiming it as if he was going to shoot the wall, and it had been cool to the touch. Strange that something so cold could generate a fiery explosion in the blink of an eye if you just pulled the trigger. He hadn't pulled it yet though. He had to save the bullets he had. Save the bullets you have? But you don't even know

if you're going to do it! But a part of his mind had known all along, had known from the moment he was handed the .45 that he would do it. But he needed a plan.

IX: Water On The Fire

Mark woke up, and for a few seconds he did not know where he was and he didn't remember anything that had happend the night before. But then it all came back to him, and he let his head fall back onto the pillow, tired as hell. He realized he was staring at the same spot on the ceiling he'd been staring at for hours before he had finally fallen asleep, and he quickly turned away. He never wanted to see that again. He associated it with bad thoughts, dark thoughts. He sat up in bed. Shit, I don't have a plan yet,

he thought. After he had made his decision he'd fallen asleep almost immediately, because really the douth had been what kept him awake until 4 am. Calm down, no need to

panic. You have a whole week, remember?

Yes, that was right. And the first step toward coming up with a good plan was getting the fuck out of this room and getting another one for a while, because he couldn't stand looking at that goddamn spot on the ceiling any longer. Best get started then,

he thought, and that's what he did. He took a shit, showered, dressed, combed his hair neatly, and then walked out of the room into bright sunlight. The light blinded his eyes, and he had to narrow them almost to slits. He stood there for a minute, blinking dumbly in front of his door, and then walked toward the reception desk.

'I want to change rooms,' he said. The reception lady looked at him questioningly.
'Why?' she said, sounding a little suspicious.
'There's a weird smell in the one I'm in right now,' he said.
'It comes from the sink. I figure, if it doesn't cost anything extra, why not change rooms and not be bothered by it anymore?'
'Oh,' she said, trying not to sound surprised. 'Well, I can arrange that, of course. Which one would you like?'
'The cheapest one, if there's a difference in pricing. Otherwise, pick one for me.'
'Well, our rooms don't differ in price at all, so I guess I'll put you in room 5. It's over there to your right.' She pointed and he looked. There was a wooden door with a brass number 5 on it on the upper floor, probably the room furthest away from the reception desk.
Now why would she do that? Do I look like some kind of creep or something?

'I'll take that one then. Thank you very much. I'm just going to get my clothes from my old room.'
'You do that.'

He walked back to his room. Halfway there he looked around and caught her hastily looking away. There it is again. What's so weird about me?

He went into his room, walked into the bathroom, and then realized he didn't even have any other clothes in there. Well this is embarrassing. Now I have to walk past her again and say 'I forgot I didn't have any clothes with me,' ans she'll say 'Oh,' and get back to doing nothing, but

she'll think

what a creep! I just know it!

Then he thought Jesus, I'm getting paranoid. I should stop that.

So instead of walking by the reception lady he turned right, exited the motel that way and walked through the busy streets of morning Las Vegas. Cars drove by, people walked by, none of them paying attention to him, him not paying attention to any of them. Just the way it was supposed to go. See? I don't look weird, that reception lady's just

crazy or something.

He walked until he reached a quiet park with a pond. Ducks were quacking happily as they were given bread by a happy-looking old couple. It was a scene of utter peace, and he found it calmed him down, like the hugs of his mother when he was a child and he thought there was a monster in his room. He walked over to a bench and sat down to think.

X: Arguing With Myself

He sat on that bench for a long time. How long he didn't know, but he could tell it was a while because he had seen the sun rise and start descending again. He had devoted only a small part of that time to thinking of a plan. The largest part he had thought about Tina, their wedding, their honeymoon...in short, the time they had been happy together. And he had cried. A lot. He hadn't even cared if people saw him crying, he had been in way too deep of sorrow to. But the crying had ended after a while, and after pulling himself together he had started thinking about the plan. It hadn't really taken that long either. In fact, it had taken almost no time at all. His mind had been clear, and everything had seemed simple, overseeable. His plan was to simply go to the very same alley he had met Edward in after dark every night. and the first person who walked into or even passed close by the alley he would seize and shoot. Then he would hide his or her body in the dumpster from behind which Edward had emerged the night before. In his head this all seemed very simple, but he supposed it would be a lot harder in practice. He wasn't a very violent person. Sure he had gotten into some fights in school, who hadn't? But he had never harmed anyone for no reason at all. And that was precisely what he had to do. Well, not precisely

, a voice in his head said. You have to kill someone, not just harm them. You have to kill someone who probably doesn't deserve to be killed. Can you do that old boy? Can you stand to have that on

your conscience for the rest of your life?

He didn't know. He guessed the only way to know was to just try it.

XI: Trying It

It was raining. It was cold. It was dark. It was his second time in the alley. The first time he'd waited four hours for someone to pass by and he hadn't been able to do it. He'd gone back to the motel depressed and thinking he couldn't do it. But the next morning he'd felt refreshed and ready to go again. He'd gone back to the park to calm himself down, and had ended up sitting there until dark. Then he'd walked over to the alley about one mile away with his raincoat on. And here he was now, lurking behind the shadows, invisible to anyone who walked by, because his entire outfit was black. The gun he held between his legs as he sat, his back resting against the wet wall, pointing down at the ground.