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

later that morning, when he had some clothes. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be coming back to that room any more. Something told him that in the next chapter of his life, the one that started with his meeting with Leland, he would have a new permanent residence somewhere else.

 

It was a two-mile walk to his old apartment, but a combination of starvation and aching muscles made it feel a lot longer. On the way he passed the Last Resort motel, and stared at it in disgust. The fading paint and the gloomy look of the place really did make it feel like a last resort, where people who were at the end of their ropes could always find a cheap roof over their heads. He looked up at room number 7, then looked away again. He never wanted to see the place again, and he made a note to avoid it on his route back to the motel. But he walked on, and noticed that he wasn’t really getting stared at. Good.

 

The Starbucks was just around the corner. He stood and gathered his courage for a while, and then, trying not to be noticed, turned right and, at a brisk pace, walked by the front window of the coffee house. He stared straight ahead, he did not look. Then he walked around the building and opened the door on the side, which led to his apartment building. Everything seemed fine, so he entered his room. Although it had felt more or less like home just a few days ago (less than a week, in fact), as he stood there now he could not imagine ever having lived here. The moment when he’d found the letter from Leland on his bed everything had changed. Everything he’d done since then had felt somehow predestined in retrospect. When he walked into the Target back alley, and when he did the murder that was result of the meeting he had there, he felt some invisible guiding force invade him, talk through his mouth and take over his hands to do horrible things. Should I really get involved with this ‘Business’? I mean, Tina should get what she deserves, but is that death? This Leland… I… he felt the force again, he felt it take action and derail his train of thought. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to fix the tracks. Whenever he tried, thoughts like I should pack my stuff and I should hurry up and get to the Target interrupted him. Finally he couldn’t take it any longer. He laid down on his bed and fell asleep almost immediately, though he still hadn’t eaten.

 

5:00 pm. Hunger woke him up. It was all he could think of. He put on a shirt and went out immediately. He found the nearest McDonald’s and ordered two quarter pounders, two large fries and a milkshake. He gobbled the fries, consumed the burgers in large chunks, and washed it all down with the milkshake. Now, finally I can think.

Great.

 

7:00 pm. After his hasty meal he had stayed in the Mac and stared blankly ahead for a while, like a moron. Then he had found that, although his initial appetite had died down, he could still fit a little more. Why not? Fill up on food now, you might have to go without it for a while after tonight, who knows. So for the next hour he had ordered small portions, like a box of McNuggets, eaten them and then come back for more. And now here he sat, body satisfied, mind occupied. He looked out of the window and saw that it was already getting dark outside. He would still have to wait for a while, however. The Target didn’t close until nine, and even then he’d have to wait for all of the personnel to leave, and for everything to be quiet. I will be waiting, Leland had said just before their meeting ended. And Mark had a feeling he would be, whether he went today or let it wait until tomorrow. Leland would be there whenever he was there. Leland would wait one week and not a second longer.

 

10:00 pm. He was still in the Mac, though he hadn’t ordered anything for hours. He kept getting glances from the people behind the counter. What a weird man, he imagined they were thinking, first he spends two straight hours eating and now he just sits there alone for hours, mumbling to himself.

Well, let them think what they will, he thought. I can sit here until closing time if I so desire. But he didn’t. He decided it was time to go. He went back to his apartment, grabbed his clothes, shoved them in a duffel bag and left, not taking one look back at the crummy two-room accommodation he would never set foot in again.

 

As he walked the two miles to the Target, duffel bag slung around his shoulders, the same feeling of fear from before the first meeting began to invade him again. But this time, rather than thinking it was some kind of joke, he felt that weird, driving force, this time in his legs, taking control of them and carrying him the remaining distance. He, or rather his legs, turned a corner and then he was in full view of the Target again. It looked deserted. He walked across the gloomy, unlit parking lot and went round to the back alley. ‘Hello? He said. His voice sounded frightened to him.

‘Ah, Mark!’ a voice spoke from the darkness. ‘There you are. Finally! Let’s get cracking then.’

Imprint

Publication Date: 12-18-2011

All Rights Reserved