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""Searching"" -> (16 skipped) -> "Small Talk, Big Trouble" -> "'Pay Day in Detroit'"

Check-out Time  by Psycho1_77

   Egg watched the flames lick the sky as his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. The hopes of a clean life and retirement disappeared into the billowing clouds of smoke that poured from the top of the tower.

   "**** hell!" he screamed, startling Toby and Frau from their stupor. "Frau, give me the **** folders!"

    Toby reacted fast. He scrambled over Egg's lap, threw open the glove compartment and grabbed his gun. Egg saw what Toby was doing and moved with lightning reflexes. He grabbed Toby's wrist and tried to wrench the gun from his hand. The two struggled fervently, each trying to get control of the weapon.

   "Frau! Don't just sit there, you worthless piece of ****! Help me out here!"

    Frau leaned forward in the back seat. The roar of the gunshot was deafening inside the close quarters of the sedan. Frau slumped back in the seat, blood pouring from the gunshot wound in his forehead. The rear windshield was a crimson mess, littered with pieces of skull and brain matter. Egg relaxed his grip on the gun and stared at the lifeless corpse of his now former lover. Toby took advantage of the situation and yanked the gun free. 

   "Get out of the car slowly and don't try anything funny," Toby stammered as he tried to hold the gun steady.  

   Egg slid out of the passenger seat in reverse, keeping his eyes locked firmly on the gun. He moved as graceful as a cat and started back-stepping as soon as his feet were planted on the pavement. Toby, however, was quite clumsy and knocked the back of his head against the top of the doorframe as he exited the sedan. Egg took advantage and hoped that the would-be investigator hesitated with the gun gun as much as he hesitated with every other aspect of his life.

    Toby raised the gun, but then lowered it immediately as he remembered that he had no proof that he was an investigator. Panic slowly started to rise up hs spine as he realized that there was a dead body in his back seat. 

   Oh, ****, Toby! How the hell are you gonna get through this one? The police and Fire Department are on there way. Time to get the **** out of Dodge.

   Toby jumped behind the wheel and jammed the car in reverse. The tires smoked and squealed as the car spun a 180. He slammed the transmission into drive and sped off, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him. His only consolation was that Egg had left his belongings in the back seat. Once he was safely away, he would get a good look at those files. Maybe they would give him some clue as to what to do next.


   I couldn't believe how much blood had flowed out of Frau's dead body. I had never even thought about what it would be like to kill someone. This was all new to me. Luckily most of Egg's wardrobe consisted of those gaudy thick sweaters; the type all the rich, country club snobs wore around their necks in the movies. They sopped up blood really nice. When I rolled Frau onto his side, exposing the massive wound on the back of his head, my stomach betrayed me and I doulbled over emptying its contents on the ground next to the sedan. 

   Several minutes later, My head stopped spinning and I was able to regain some of my senses. I yanked the body out of the back seat and dropped it on the ground. It took about another thirty minutes for me to clean up as much of the blood and gore as I could. I grabbed the remaing belongings of my impromptu passengers and sat down beside the water to peruse the files.

   I was convinced that I wasn't going to find anything helpful on the pages within. The thing that was disturbing to me was a Polaroid picture of me, from just a few days ago, with the words "He's next" written on the bottom. I was just about to pack it all up and call the whole "mission" a wash, when something caught my eye. Faintly scrawled in pencil on the bottom corner of a page were the words "After Detroit, rendevous with Wright in Tijuana". My eyes shifted to the envelope full of cash that had fallen out of Egg's bag along with a handgun that made mine look like a toy.

  I slid behind the wheel of my Ford and checked the atlas to find the quickest route to the airport. I figured that I could ditch the car before getting to the airport and walk the remainder of the distance. Getting the gun on the plane would be my biggest problem, but hopefully something good would come to me by the time I got there.

   I had no idea what could possibly await me in Tijuana, but I hoped it would be Wright and my money. I flipped through the cash in the envelope quickly counting out an approximation. there was well over ten grand stuffed into it. If nothing else, I'd have this to fall back on and ten grand, when spent wisely (meaning no vodka and Nyquil cocktails), it could last quite a few months of unemployment if need be. 

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  'Check-out Time' statistics: (click to read)
Date created: April 11, 2008
Date published: April 11, 2008
Comments: 4
Word Count: 1066
Times Read: 721
Story Length: 11
Children Rank: 3.6/5.0 (4 votes)
Descendant Rank: 0.0/5.0 (47 votes)